Two squirrels sound
In the morning, like
Sharing their part
In a morning symphony
With the other birds
In the garden, around
My little mansion,
Is silent in the dawn
Covering itself in mist,
Why they play together
Not being orginal members
Of my orchestra?
Oh! helplessness and
Trembling fear
Of a creeping serpent,
Green but ugly
An oldest friend of satan,
At his deadly advancing
Towards their blind puppies
Who Deep sleep in their
Tiny safe house.
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