Part 14 (1/2)

Twelve snails went walking after night.

They'd creep an inch or so, Then stop and bug their eyes And blow.

Some folks... are... deadly... slow.

Twelve snails went walking yestereve, Led by their fat old king.

They were so dull their princeling had No sceptre, robe or ring-- Only a paper cap to wear When nightly journeying.

This king-snail said: ”I feel a thought Within.... It blossoms soon....

O little courtiers of mine,...

I crave a pretty boon....

Oh, yes... (High thoughts with effort come And well-bred snails are ALMOST dumb.) ”I wish I had a yellow crown As glistering... as... the moon.”

III. What the Rattlesnake Said

The moon's a little prairie-dog.

He s.h.i.+vers through the night.

He sits upon his hill and cries For fear that _I_ will bite.

The sun's a broncho. He's afraid Like every other thing, And trembles, morning, noon and night, Lest _I_ should spring, and sting.

IV. The Moon's the North Wind's Cooky

(What the Little Girl Said)

The Moon's the North Wind's cooky.

He bites it, day by day, Until there's but a rim of sc.r.a.ps That crumble all away.

The South Wind is a baker.

He kneads clouds in his den, And bakes a crisp new moon _that... greedy North... Wind... eats... again!_

V. Drying their Wings

(What the Carpenter Said)

The moon's a cottage with a door.

Some folks can see it plain.

Look, you may catch a glint of light, A sparkle through the pane, Showing the place is brighter still Within, though bright without.

There, at a cosy open fire Strange babes are grouped about.