Andrew Macphail, comp. The Book of Sorrow. 1916.
The Death of PuckEugene Lee-Hamilton (18451907)
T
‘Yes, I knew Puck, and loved him; though I trow
He mimick’d oft my whistle, chuckling low;
Yes, I knew cousin Puck; but he is dead.
The Wren and I—half cover’d up with snow,
As we were hopping where the berries grow.
We think he died of cold. Ay, Puck is fled.’
Dig him a little grave beneath the moss,
And four big Dormice placed him in the hole.
Puck was a Christian elf, and had a soul;
And all we velvet jackets mourn his loss.’