Remonstrance with the Snails
Ye little snails, You may bathe in their dews at morn; By the aged sea you may sound your shells, On the mountains erect your horn; The fruits and the flowers are your rightful dowers, Then why - in the name of wonder - Should my six pea-rows be the only cause To excite your midnight plunder。 I have never disturbed your slender shells; You have hung round my aged walk; And each might have sat, till he died in his fat, Beneath his own cabbage-stalk: But now you must fly from the soil of your sires; Then put on your liveliest crawl, And think of your poor little snails at home, Now orphans or emigrants all. Utensils domestic and civil and social I give you an evening to pack up; But if the moon of this night does not rise on your flight, Tomorrow I’ll hang each man Jack up. You’ll think of my peas and your thievish tricks, With tears of slime, when crossing the Styx. ※本文作者:佚名※ |