He hears the river plunge and roar
As roars the angry mob;
He feels the solid building quake,
The trusty timbers throb.
All night beside the fire he cowers:
He hears the rafters jar:
O why is he not in a proper house
As decent people are!
The floors are all aslant, he sees,
The doors are all a-jam;
And from the hook above his head
All crooked swings the ham.
‘Alas,’ he cries and shakes his head,
‘I see by every sign,
There soon all be the deuce to pay,
With this estate of mine.’
III
THE DISPUTATIOUS PINES
The first pine to the second said:
‘My leaves are black, my branches red;
I stand upon this moor of mine,
A hoar, unconquerable pine.’
The second sniffed and answered: ‘Pooh!
I am as good a pine as you.’
‘Discourteous tree,’ the first replied,
‘The tempest in my boughs had cried,
The hunter slumbered in my shade,
A hundred years ere you were made.’