Listen! to the lay · of the loathsome lurker,grumbling grabber, the greedy groundhog.Woodchuck lay waiting, woe to wreakon the greening garden, gleaming in glory.Broad lay the bean-leaves, bright the beet-greens,tomatoes like torches · under green thatching;hoard of the hoe-handler, heavy and hallowed,luring the ground-grubber · seeking his guerdon.Rising sun reddened · the light on the rabbit-roadwhen came the woodchuck · greedily waddling.Wait! from the window · a waking watcherdamp-eyed at dawning, seeking delightin the burgeoning birdsong · beholds the burglar.Bare as a newborn · baby he barrelsdown the descent · of the still-dark staircase.Hardy the hero, hardly holdingthe burnished bannister, burning for battle!Seizing the sword · he had snapped from a sapling(sweet the scent · of the maple-switch)leaping aloft · up the little lawnheadlong hurls · himself on the horror,the fanged fiend, the fearsome foe.But bitter the battle · barely begunand suddenly sundered; seizing the sweet leaf,footing fleetly, the fiend fled.Then came the tremor: were the tomatoesfelled by those fangs? Faintly, he felt themwith his fair fingers: firm, unfallen.Praise, then, the pride · of our peerless princeling,savior of salads, sage-leaf and spinach;long though the leaves · must grow ere the lettuceprepares for its plucking, peppers for paring,still will the watcher · wait at the window.Strength to his sword, the sweetness-saver.
