As I was walking through a wood, one cool September day,
I chanced to see a stranger standing jaunty, in my way.
There wasn't much about him to remark about, I guess—
Unless it might be possibly the matter of his dress.
I couldn't help from noticing the jacket he had on,
For glory be! 'Twas greener than McGillicuddy's lawn!
Except for that, there wasn't much to stretch a pair of eyes—
Unless I should be mentioning the matter of his size!
It's really rather seldom you'll be meeting on your walks,
A bit of man who measures seven inches in his socks.
I looked at him and looked at him and kinda thought it over,
While he stared back, his little head just level with the clover.
"You're not a native of the town!" I presently decided.
"No, that I'm not!" the little man quite cheerfully confided.
"Well then," I went on thoughtful-like, as sharp I looked him through,
"I'm thinking you're a stranger, here." Said he: "I think so, too!"
Said I: "Could be that you're a man who's kinda shrunk a little!"
"It could be now!" he answered me, a trifle noncommittal.
Then, standing up all fine and straight, he faced me like a hero,
(The brash of him whose size was little more than two times zero!)
And sweeping off his tiny cap, he said with quite a bow
"Good luck to you, long life to you—and I'll be leaving now!"
With that, the little fellow went. 'Twas queer, I do declare!
He didn't walk away from me. He simply wasn't there!
Well, as I wandered homeward with the sunlight in my eyes,
I talked it over with myself. (Myself is wondrous wise!)
Said I: "He was a pipe dream! Aye! He surely was the type!"
"Fiddlesticks!" Myself replied. "You've never owned a pipe!"
And thinkin' of the matter, very sober in the dawn,
The both of us decided I had met a leprechaun!
Ernestine Cobern Beyer
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