The Elf and the Dormouse

Oliver Herford (1863–1935)

UNDER a toadstool

Crept a wee Elf,

Out of the rain,

To shelter himself.

Under the toadstool,

Sound asleep,

Sat a big Dormouse

All in a heap.

Trembled the wee Elf,

Frightened, and yet

Fearing to fly away

Lest he get wet.

To the next shelter—

Maybe a mile!

Sudden the wee Elf

Smiled a wee smile,

Tugged till the toadstool

Toppled in two.

Holding it over him,

Gayly he flew.

Soon he was safe home,

Dry as could be.

Soon woke the Dormouse—

“Good gracious me!

“Where is my toadstool?”

Loud he lamented.

—And that ’s how umbrellas

First were invented.