It weren’t so bad to be a mouse;
The life was small, but so were we.
Our highest cares were crumbs and tea
(Which ain’t too scarce in a manor house).
A fine life! Nibble, nuzzle, be
Just nimble enough to ‘scape the broom,
Just glad enough to ‘scape the gloom,
Just free enough to know ye’r free.
And sure, a humble life. Why not?
When “ostentation” meant ye wore
Yer whiskers curled, or oiled yer fur,
Or weren’t well-pleased with what ye’d got.
Aye, what we’d got weren’t much, it’s true.
Ye’d call us poor – but poor’s no vice,
And poverty’s enough for mice;
It does us, or we make it do.
And all we asked was room to creep,
A bite of food, a bit of drink,
Quick feet to flee, bright eyes to blink,
A common nest, and dreamless sleep.
Imagine, then, how t’was for us
(Who’d scarce imagined once before),
All skittering across the floor,
In a squealing, stumbling, tumbling fuss
Of paws and claws and hoof and hair,
And straightening up to unheard-of height,
And seein’ ourselves in each other: white
And tall and proud, and Lord, I swear
The seein’ weren’t the marvel. No,
‘Twas the feelin’. The feelin’! The wind! The heat
Of our breath and our legs as we beat, we beat
The road, and the cry was “Go! And go!”
Then the race in the dark on the stroke of the hour –
It was breathless and boundless and freedom and flight –
What were mice? We were gods! And we breathed in the night
And the rush of the air, of the pulse, of the power.
And then – and then – mere mice again,
But mice aware of grander things,
We scuttled home with folded wings
And glowing eyes. And glory! when
The others heard our tale, we knew
They’d knot their tails for envy. Why,
If once we only closed an eye
We’d see that wondrous chase anew.
______________________________
It weren’t so bad to be a mouse.
The life was small, but so were we.
What made you show us liberty
Too wide for the walls of the manor house?
You dressed a cinder-girl in white;
You granted us fleet glory. Why?
We never asked to stand so high.
We never wished to dream of flight.
