THE BROWNIES IN RUSSIA.

In hopes some branch would snap at last
With overweight, or else a blast

Might shake a shower from the tree
That patience might rewarded be.

At length, as night her mantle rent,

The wolves appeared to catch the scent
Of something on a distant hill

That seemed to promise better still;

  

So in a trice the siege was raised,

And all the Brownies, much amazed,
Descended from the tree in haste
And made their way across the waste.

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