 | The harp and plow |  |
104
TO A RED SQUIRREL,
BARKING AT ME WHILE PASSING THROUGH A WOOD.
Good conscience! what can be the matter,
To call forth such an awful clatter!
Dost think that I am come to scatter
Salt on thy tail?
About thy head and ears to patter
The leaden hail?
To call forth such an awful clatter!
Dost think that I am come to scatter
Salt on thy tail?
About thy head and ears to patter
The leaden hail?
You don't insinuate, I hope,
I'm some defaulter on the slope?
Or some poor brain-bewildered mope
Whom you can hector?
One thing is sure,—there 's no ‘soft soap’
About your lecture.
I'm some defaulter on the slope?
Or some poor brain-bewildered mope
Whom you can hector?
One thing is sure,—there 's no ‘soft soap’
About your lecture.
Just stop awhile your saucy din,
And think about the heinous sin
Of judging people, kith nor kin,
Before you know them;
If thoughts are in your squirrel skin,
Then you may show them.
And think about the heinous sin
Of judging people, kith nor kin,
Before you know them;
If thoughts are in your squirrel skin,
Then you may show them.
How many, blest with reason's light,
Have passed wrong judgment at first sight,
And poured unwittingly their spite
Where least deserved,
And fawned on those who from the right
Have basely swerved!
Have passed wrong judgment at first sight,
105
Where least deserved,
And fawned on those who from the right
Have basely swerved!
With lies, poor Kit, I will not cheat thee;
The time has been when thus to meet me
Were to meet death: but now I'll treat thee
Just as one should,
That oft hereafter I may greet thee
Here in the wood.
The time has been when thus to meet me
Were to meet death: but now I'll treat thee
Just as one should,
That oft hereafter I may greet thee
Here in the wood.
You seem to feel quite safe;—you are;
I would not harm of thee a hair;
But I 've a word or two to spare
By way of stricture;
Of impudence thou art a rare
And striking picture!
I would not harm of thee a hair;
But I 've a word or two to spare
By way of stricture;
Of impudence thou art a rare
And striking picture!
Take my advice; don't imitate
The human race at such a rate!
Your consequence may e'en be great,
Though one must doubt it;
For man, like thee, may storm and prate,
Yet be without it.
The human race at such a rate!
Your consequence may e'en be great,
Though one must doubt it;
For man, like thee, may storm and prate,
Yet be without it.
Could he who speaks for Bunkum stand
And hear thee rate and reprimand!
His frothy speeches sagely planned,
You 'd plainly show him;
He fills with nonsense all the land,—
You fill my poem.
And hear thee rate and reprimand!
His frothy speeches sagely planned,
You 'd plainly show him;
He fills with nonsense all the land,—
You fill my poem.
| The harp and plow | |