PUPPY dog, rough as a bramble, Eyed like a saint, Beggar to slobber and gambol, Corky and quaint, Chasing your tail like a fubsy turbillion, Plaguing a playmate with fuss of a million Gnats, But keen as a kestrel And fierce as a stoat is, A-thrill to ancestral Furies at notice Of rats, Rats, little hound of Beelzebub, rats! And as you sleep off a surfeit, Mischief and tea, Prone on the summer-warm turf, it Surely must be (Rapturous whimper and tremulant twitching), Somewhere or other there's hunting bewitching; @3That's@1 More blesséd than biscuit; I'll lay, through your slumbers, They squeak and they frisk it In shadowy numbers, R-r-rats, Rats, little hound of Beelzebub, rats! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: SHACK DYE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS ON THE BUST OF HELEN BY CANOVA by GEORGE GORDON BYRON WHEN THERE IS PEACE by HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON THE LOST CHORD by ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER THE 'STAY AT HOME'S' PLAINT, 1878 by GEORGE AUGUSTUS BAKER JR. BURY HIM DEEP by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES THE LITTLE FRIEND; WRITTEN IN THE BOOK WHICH SHE MADE & SENT by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING AN INDIAN AT THE BURIAL PLACE OF HIS FATHERS by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT |