Next morning, ere dawn, when Tafi awoke,
Ere his lips could frame their usual call,
A sight he beheld that froze his veins--
An impish procession of tapers small!
X
Slowly they came, and slowly went
(And they seemed to pass through a crack 'neath the door):
So slowly they moved, he counted them all,
Thirty they numbered, nor less, nor more!