Page:Anthology of Magazine Verse (1921).djvu/176

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Pillowed on pulseless fortitude,
Drowsy . . . .
Beneath my pain.

The MeasureLeonora Speyer


THE PET
Hope gnawed at my heart like a hungry rat,
Ran in and out of my dreams high-walled,
I heard its scampering feet:
"Pretty rat—pretty rat—!" I called,

And crumbled it songs to eat.
Hope peeped at me from behind my dreams,
Nibbled the crumbs of my melodies,
Grew tame and sleek and fat;

Oh but my heart knew ease
To feel the teeth of my rat!
Then came a night—and then a day—
I heard soft feet that scuttled away—

Rats leave the sinking ship, they say.

The BookmanLeonora Speyer

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