THE CHIPMUNK 



mockery as he scurries in at his narrow 

 door. 



He winds along his crooked pathway 

 of the fence rails and forages for half- 

 forgotten nuts in the familiar grounds, 

 brown with strewn leaves or dun with 

 dead grass. Sometimes he ventures to 

 the top rail and climbs to a giddy ten- 

 foot height on a tree, whence he looks 

 abroad, wondering, on the wide expanse 

 of an acre. 



Music hath charms for him, and you 

 may entrance him with a softly whistled 

 tune and entice him to frolic with a 

 herds-grass head gently moved before 

 him. 



When the fairies have made the white 

 curd of mallow blossoms into cheeses 

 for the children and the chipmunk, it 

 is a pretty sight to see him gathering 

 his share handily and toothily stripping 

 off the green covers, filling his cheek 

 pouches with the dainty disks and scam- 

 pering away to his cellar with his un- 

 grudged portion. Alack the day, when 

 the sweets of the sprouting corn tempt 

 him to turn rogue, for then he becomes 

 a banned outlaw, and the sudden thun- 

 38 



