The Turkey And The Ant.

We blame the mote that dims the eye             Of other men, whose faults we spy;             But we ignore the beam that lies             With stronger strain in one's own eyes.             A turkey, who grew dull at home,             Resolved in the wild woods to roam;             Wearied she was of barn-door food,             Therefore she chuckled round her brood,             And said, "My little ones, now follow;             We'll go and dine in yonder hollow."             They first upon an ant-hill fell -             Myriads of negro-ants, pell-mell -             "O gobble, gobble - here's a treat!             Emmets are most delicious meat;             Spare not, spare not. How blest were we,             Could we here live from poulterers free!             Accursd man on turkeys preys,             Christmas to us no holy-days;             When with the oyster-sauce and chine             We roast that aldermen may dine.             They call us 'alderman in chains,'             With sausages - the stupid swains!             Ah! gluttony is sure the first             Of all the seven sins - the worst!             I'd choke mankind, had I the power,             From peasant's hut to lordly bower."             An ant, who on a neighbouring beech             Had climbed the trunk beyond her reach,             Thus said to her: "You turkey-hen,             What right have you to rail on men?             You nor compunction know nor feel,             But gobble nations at a meal!"