The Bashful Earthquake

The Earthquake rumbled
And mumbled
And grumbled;
And then he bumped,
And everything tumbled—
Bumpyty-thump!
Thumpyty-bump!—
Houses and palaces all in a lump!

“Oh, what a crash!
Oh, what a smash!
How could I ever be so rash?”
The Earthquake cried.
“What under the sun
Have I gone and done?
I never before was so mortified!”
Then away he fled,
And groaned as he sped:
“This comes of not looking before I tread.”

Out of the city along the road
He staggered, as under a heavy load,
Growing more weary with every league,
Till almost ready to faint with fatigue.
He came at last to a country lane
Bordering upon a field of grain;
And just at the spot where he paused to rest,
In a clump of wheat, hung a Dormouse nest.

The sun in the west was sinking red,
And the Dormouse had just turned into bed,
Dreaming as only a Dormouse can,
When all of a sudden his nest began
To quiver and shiver and tremble and shake.
Something was wrong, and no mistake!

In a minute the Dormouse was wide awake,
And, putting his head outside his nest,
Cried: “WHO IS IT DARES DISTURB MY REST?”

His voice with rage was a husky squeak.
The Earthquake by now had become so weak
He’d scarcely strength enough to speak.
He even forgot the rules of grammar;
All he could do was to feebly stammer:
“I’m sorry, but I’m afraid it’s me.
Please don’t be angry. I’ll try to be—”

No one will know what he meant to say,
For all at once he melted away.
* * * * *
The Dormouse, grumbling, went back to bed,
“Oh, bother the Bats!” was all he said.