O little mouse, so frightened of each sound, Each human voice, each stir along the ground; Ants, tiny ants with that wee spark in you That can be quenched by any careless shoe; Rabbits that leap and hide yourselves in grasses With panic in your breasts until man passes. Man fears as you; we run into a house When cyclones roar, as any dreading mouse. When earthquakes come and press us with their feet, We are like ants who can't oppose, entreat; And we may leap as rabbits for a cover, But Death with all his dogs will nearby hover. You have known fear, small things, to make you wise. We are so weak. O pity our small size. |