 | Reuben and Other Poems |  |
Or perhaps, it lies crouch'd inside of the wall,
And peeps thro' a crevice so round and small,
That anyone catching the glance of its eye,
Takes it for the sheen of a blue-bottle fly.
Then the miser, thinking all safe and sound,
Creeps to his hoard, looking round and round,
Pausing and list'ning in horrible fear
At the thought of a footstep coming near,
Falls down, and worships his god in the pose;
But he little knows, he little knows
That the blue-bottle fly is the weasel's eye
Peering at him wherever he goes.”
And peeps thro' a crevice so round and small,
That anyone catching the glance of its eye,
Takes it for the sheen of a blue-bottle fly.
Then the miser, thinking all safe and sound,
Creeps to his hoard, looking round and round,
Pausing and list'ning in horrible fear
At the thought of a footstep coming near,
Falls down, and worships his god in the pose;
But he little knows, he little knows
That the blue-bottle fly is the weasel's eye
Peering at him wherever he goes.”
| Reuben and Other Poems | |