A Make-Believe

Oh, delightIn the nightWhen the moonSets the tuneTo the woods!And the broodsAll run out,Frisk about,Go and come,Beat the drum--Here in groups,There in troops!Now there's one!Now it's gone!There are none!And now they are dancing like chaff!I look, and I laugh,But sit by my door, and keep to my habit--A wise, respectable, clean-furred old rabbit!

Now I'm going,Business calls me out--Going, going,Very knowing,Slow, long-heeled, and stout,Loping, lumbering,Nipping, numbering,Head on this side and on that,Along the pathway footed flat,Through the meadow, through the heather,Through the rich dusky weather--Big stars and little moon!

Dews are lighting down in crowds,Odours rising in thin clouds,Night has all her chords in tune--The very night for us, God's rabbits,Suiting all our little habits!Wind not loud, but playful with our fur,Just a cool, a sweet, a gentle stir!And all the way not one rough bur,But the dewiest, freshest grasses,That whisper thanks to every foot that passes!

I, the king the rest call Mappy,Canter on, composed and happy,Till I come where there is plentyFor a varied meal and dainty.Is it cabbage, I grab it;Is it parsley, I nab it;Is it carrot, I mar it;The turnip I turn upAnd hollow and swallow;A lettuce? Let us eat it!A beetroot? Let's beat it!If you are juicy,Sweet sir, I will use you!For all kinds of corn-cropI have a born crop!Are you a green top?You shall be gleaned up!Sucking and feazing,Crushing and squeezingAll that is feathery,Crisp, not leathery,Juicy and bruisy--All comes properTo my little hopperStill on the dance,Driven by hunger and drouth!

All is welcome to my crunching,Finding, grinding,Milling, munching,Gobbling, lunching,Fore-toothed, three-lipped mouth--Eating side way, round way, flat way,Eating this way, eating that way,Every way at once!

Hark to the rain!--Pattering, clattering,The cabbage leaves battering,Down it comes amain!--Home we hurryHop and scurry,And in with a flurry!Hustling, jostlingOut of the airy landInto the dry warm sand;Our family white tails,The last of our vitals,Following hard with a whisk to them,And with a great sense of risk to them!

Hear to it pouring!Hear the thunder roaringFar off and up high,While we all lieSo warm and so dryIn the mellow dark,Where never a spark,White or rosy or blue,Of the sheeting, fleeting,Forking, frightening,Lashing lightningEver can come through!

Let the wind chafeIn the trees overhead,We are quite safeIn our dark, yellow bed!Let the rain pour!It never can boreA hole in our roof--It is waterproof!So is the cloakWe always carry,We furry folk,In sandhole or quarry!It is perfect blissTo lie in a nestSo soft as this,All so warmly drest!No one to flurry you!No one to hurry you!No one to scurry you!Holes plenty to creep in!All day to sleep in!All night to roam in!Gray dawn to run home in!And all the days and nights to come after--All the to-morrows for hind-legs and laughter!

Now the rain is over,We are out again,Every merry, leaping rover,On his right leg and his wrong leg,On his doubled, shortened long leg,Floundering amain!Oh, it is merryAnd jolly--yes, very!

But what--what is that?What can he be at?Is it a cat?Ah, my poor little brother,He's caught in the trapThat goes-to with a snap!Ah me! there was never,Nor will be for ever--There was never such another,Such a funny, funny bunny,Such a frisking, such a whisking,Such a frolicking brother!He's screeching, beseeching!They're going to--

Ah, my poor foot,It is caught in a root!No, no! 'tis a trapThat goes-to with a snap!Ah me, I'm forsaken!Ah me, I am taken!I am screeching, beseeching!They are going to--

No more! no more! I must stop this play,Be a boy again, and kneel down and prayTo the God of sparrows and rabbits and men,Who never lets any one out of his ken--It must be so, though it be bewild'ring--To save his dear beasts from his cruel children!