"Does the little fairy
Work in a dairy?
I hear her talk about making cheese,—
She with her locks the color of money,
Hanging long and crinkled and sunny
Down to her waist,—a golden fleece."
Oh, such a laughter
As rings out after
My words, is the sweetest sound I know!
Sparkle the eyes that had been dreaming:—
"Aunty dear, if you want to see me,
I'll show you how to make one,—so!"

Soon as she utters
This, out she flutters,
Her full fresh frock as white as the snows;
Round she whirls, and then in a minute
Sits down quick, and the air within it
Puffs it out like a full-blown rose.
That's what she pleases
To call "making cheeses."
I'm sure I could give it a better name.
Call it playing at daffy-down-dilly,
Call it playing at white day-lily:
Either will suit me just the same.
Lily for brightness
She is, and for whiteness;
A golden centre her long locks grow!
And isn't that head, so shimmering, sunny,
Daffy-down-dilly-like, yellow as money?—
Rogue she is anyway, that I know.