A Mouse to His Sword
Inspired by Anne Bradstreet's An Author to Her Book
Thou loyal sentry of my stead
Who always kept me well and fed,
Till injured gravely in the head.
Mend thee up, I shall do so,
Broken leg, it shall heal,
Thou art honest and full of zeal.
My joyous bane who calls me sheik
Thou are more the wiser, and never meek.
Voice of thunder, fear in the sky?
No need of worry, nay! Say I.
I let you go on your merry way,
Carpe diem, all through the day.
When the sun hath set,
Thou at more eager,
To seek off new ventures.
I put thee to bed,
Yet still you fidget,
To ward off the beasts inside mine head.
Do it, be done!
Then off to sleep.
You make dryads work so difficult,
Thou art restless in art
Of making sons weary,
Keeping me up,
In the morning, I'll be dreary.
The face of thee, shine onward,
Thy spirit, grows on me ever fonder.
When duty calls,
I shall raise the alarm,
We march ever onward,
To seek the yonder.
When all the work
And duty be done,
Feast thy eyes on setting sun.
Rest your head my loyal friend,
And seek the shelter of thy bed.