The moon's a holy owl-queen.
She keeps them in a jar
Under her arm till evening,
Then sallies forth to war.
She pours the owls upon us.
They hoot with horrid noise
And eat the naughty mousie-girls
And wicked mousie-boys.
So climb the moonvine every night
And to the owl-queen pray:
Leave good green cheese by moonlit trees
For her to take away.
And never squeak, my children,
Nor gnaw the smoke-house door:
The owl-queen then will love us
And send her birds no more.
What Grandpa Mouse Said
Vachel Lindsay
(1)
Poem topics: away, children, green, house, moon, never, night, war, evening, pray, good, door, holy, noise, love, I love you, queen, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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