TO A MOUSE - Albert Frank Moritz Poems


Poems » albert frank moritz » to a mouse


Wee, sleeket, cowrin, tim'rous beastie,
Oh, what a panic's in thy breastie!
Thou need na start awa sae hasty
      Wi' bickerin brattle!
I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee
      Wi' murd'ring pattle!

I'm truly sorry man's dominion
Has broken Nature's social union,
An' justifies that ill opinion
      Which makes thee startle
At me, thy poor earth-born companion,
      An' fellow-mortal!

I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve:
What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!
A daimen icker in a thrave
      'S a sma' request;
I'll get a blessin wi' the lave,
      An' never miss 't!

Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin!
Its silly wa's the win's are strewin!
An' naething, now, to big a new ane,
      O' foggage green!
An' bleak December's winds ensuin
      Baith snell an' keen!

Thou saw the fields laid bare an' wast,
An' weary winter comin fast,
An' cozie here beneath the blast
      Thou thought to dwell,
Till crash! the cruel coulter past
      Out thro' thy cell.

That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble
Has cost thee monie a weary nibble!
Now thou's turn'd out for a' thy trouble,
      But house or hald,
To thole the winter's sleety dribble
      An' cranreuch cauld!

But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best laid schemes o' mice an' men
      Gang aft agley,
An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain
      For promis'd joy.

Still thou art blest, compar'd wi' me!
The present only toucheth thee:
But, och! I backward cast my e'e
      On prospects drear!
An' forward, tho' I canna see,
      I guess an' fear!