The Squirrel With a Rose-Sir Osbert Sitwell (1892-1962)

"Why do you climb the tree with a rose in your mouth,
When you might be down here with me, eating the grass?
How can you dream of the scented, the lilly-long lazy south,
When you might be collecting and numbering nuts in the north
For a winter that has no end?" asked the ass.

Said the squirrel, "My nuts are the stars:
Towards them I climb. You are clamped to the earth.
In a moment I'll pelt you with planets, with Mars
And with Venus,, till even you see
Why I wear a rose in my mouth!

Only a symbol, the rose in my mouth,"
Mocked the squirrel,
"My heart is a rose. I've a rose in my blood as well,
And the top of my tree, my ivory tower discloses
The whole of the world as valleys and mountains of roses."

"No! The world is a map made soley for ant and for ass.
For I roll, and thus from the feel of my fur, I can tell,"
Brayed the donkey. "We offer no flowers, only grass,
With blood, sweat, and tears; then a shroud,
And the cheers of the crowd."

"My heart is a rose," repeated the leaping squirrel,
"I've a rose in my blood as well!"
But the rose in his mouth was the blood
As he fell.
--Sir Osbert Sitwell