Chipmunk
Little chipmunk, do you know
All you mean to me?—
She and I and Long Ago,
And you there in the tree;
With that nut between your paws,
Half-way to your twittering jaws,
Jaunty with your striped coat,
Puffing out your furry throat,
Eyes like some big polished seed,
Plumed tail curved like half a lyre . . .
We pretended not to heed—
You, as though you would inquire
‘Can I trust them?’ . . . then a jerk,
And you’d skipped three branches higher,
Jaws again at work;
Like a little clock-work elf,
With all the forest to itself.
She was very fair to see,
She was all the world to me,
She has gone whole worlds away;
Yet it seems as though to-day,
Chipmunk, I can hear her say;
‘Get that chipmunk, dear, for me——’
Chipmunk, you can never know
All she was to me.
That’s all—it was long ago.
