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“Sire, this is Bertha Pearl’s neat handywork,

Her name, see here, Midsummer, ninety-one’⁠—

Elfinan snatch’d it with a sudden jerk,

And wept as if he never would have done,

Honouring with royal tears the poor homespun;

Whereon were broider’d tigers with black eyes,

And long-tailed pheasants, and a rising sun,

Plenty of posies, great stags, butterflies

Bigger than stags⁠—a moon⁠—with other mysteries.