the little Wild Thing. And they went over the marshes till they came
to the high fields among the flowers and grasses. And there they
gathered a large piece of gossamer that the spider had laid by
twilight; and the dew was on it.

Into this dew had shone all the lights of the long banks of the
ribbed sky, as all the colours changed in the restful spaces of
evening. And over it the marvellous night had gleamed with all its
stars.

Then the Wild Things went with their dew-bespangled gossamer down to
the edge of their home. And there they gathered a piece of the grey
mist that lies by night over the marshlands. And into it they put
the melody of the waste that is borne up and down the marshes in the
evening on the wings of the golden plover. And they put into it, too,
the mournful song that the reeds are compelled to sing before the
presence of the arrogant North Wind. Then each of the Wild Things
gave some treasured memory of the old marshes, 'For we can spare
it,' they said. And to all this they added a few images of the stars
that they gathered out of the water. Still the soul that the kith of
the Elf-folk were making had no life.

Then they put into it the low voices of two lovers that went walking
in the night, wandering late alone. And after that they waited for
the dawn. And the queenly dawn appeared, and the marsh-lights of the
Wild Things paled in the glare, and their bodies faded from view;
and still they waited by the marsh's edge. And to them waiting came
over field and marsh, from the ground and out of the sky, the myriad
song of the birds.