AMONG Levantine legends you maye find One of a rat worn out with worldly strife Who in the hollow of a round Dutch rind Withdrew to lead a cloistral life. The solitude was audible Round the deep arches of his cell. The hermit made his living in the husk. Soe well he wrought with toe and tusk, That soon within his cell's dark core Was ample victualling. What would you more? The rat grew sleek. (The Lord doth bless alwayes Whom to his saintly service vow their dayes.) One daye a godly caller bore, As leading counsellor among the rats, For some small alms his government's behest: They had decided on a foreign quest To seek for help against the horde of cats Ratopolis did whelm; With empty pockets they had left, Since of all money was bereft The cat-beleaguered realm. They asked small tribute, counting that such aid Would be forthcoming ere five suns should fade. "My friends," replied the lonely man, "I meddle not in sub-celestial feud: What can a poor soul in its solitude To help you forward in your plan But pray to heaven for the help you need? And may the Lord thereunto give full heed." And, having answered thus, full piously The new saint shut his door (and turned the key). Whom do you think that I so, with craft, Show as a niggardly rat for parity? A monk? Why no, but a dervish daft: For I take it a monk is all loving charity. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CHIMNEY SWEEPER, FR. SONGS OF EXPERIENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE VAN ELSEN by FREDERICK GEORGE SCOTT NAMELESS PAIN by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH LINES FOR MARCH by EDNA CRADDOCK THE FAIRY-PEDLAR'S SONG by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE WILD GEESE by MARION E. THORPE DILLER |