Dedication
TO THE ILLUSTRATOR
IN GRATEFUL ACKNOWLEDGMENT OF HIS AMIABLE CONDESCENSION IN LENDING HIS EXQUISITELY DELICATE ART TO THE EMBELLISHMENT OF THESE POOR VERSES FROM HIS SINCEREST ADMIRER
THE AUTHOR
Epigraph
THE BASHFUL EARTHQUAKE
Crime, Wickedness, Villany, Vice,
And Sin only misery bring;
If you want to be Happy and Nice,
Be good and all that sort of thing.
The Bashful Earthquake
The Earthquake rumbled
And mumbled
And grumbled;
And then he bumped,
And everything tumbled—
Bumpyty-thump!
Thumpyty-bump!—
Houses and palaces all in a lump!
“Oh, what a crash!
Oh, what a smash!
How could I ever be so rash?”
The Earthquake cried.
“What under the sun
Have I gone and done?
I never before was so mortified!”
Then away he fled,
And groaned as he sped:
“This comes of not looking before I tread.”
Out of the city along the road
He staggered, as under a heavy load,
Growing more weary with every league,
Till almost ready to faint with fatigue.
He came at last to a country lane
Bordering upon a field of grain;
And just at the spot where he paused to rest,
In a clump of wheat, hung a Dormouse nest.
The sun in the west was sinking red,
And the Dormouse had just turned into bed,
Dreaming as only a Dormouse can,
When all of a sudden his nest began
To quiver and shiver and tremble and shake.
Something was wrong, and no mistake!
In a minute the Dormouse was wide awake,
And, putting his head outside his nest,
Cried: “Who is it dares disturb my rest?”
His voice with rage was a husky squeak.
The Earthquake by now had become so weak
He’d scarcely strength enough to speak.
He even forgot
the rules of
grammar;
All he could
do was to
feebly stammer:
He even forgot the rules of grammar;
All he could do was to feebly stammer:
“I’m sorry, but I’m afraid it’s me.
Please don’t be angry. I’ll try to be—”
No one will know what he meant to say,
For all at once he melted away.
The Dormouse, grumbling, went back to bed,
“Oh, bother the Bats!” was all he said.