TO THE WOLF AT THE DOOR.
Reading edition
O Wolf, I do not dread thee as of yore, Time was when I would tremble in my shoes At sight of thee—when lo! my pity’ng Muse Brought me wherewith to drive thee from the door. And since at last, O Wolf, my waning store Has lured thee back, she will not now refuse My invocation. So I cannot choose But cry, “Help! Wolf!” that she may come once more. Mine is a Muse that listens with disdain To any call save that of appetite; And till thou earnest all my prayers were vain, For while my purse was full, my brain was light. Therefore, O Wolf, I welcome thee again To speed the Muse—that I may dine to-night.
