ChrisMouse

To a Mouse By Robert Burns

'To a Mouse', standard English translation - Robert Burns

Small, crafty, cowering, timorous little beast,
O, what a panic is in your little breast!
You need not start away so hasty
With argumentative chatter!
I would be loath to run and chase you,
With murdering plough-staff.

I'm truly sorry man's dominion
Has broken Nature's social union,
And justifies that ill opinion
Which makes thee startle
At me, thy poor, earth born companion
And fellow mortal!

I doubt not, sometimes, but you may steal;
What then? Poor little beast, you must live!
An odd ear in twenty-four sheaves
Is a small request;
I will get a blessing with what is left,
And never miss it.

Your small house, too, in ruin!
Its feeble walls the winds are scattering!
And nothing now, to build a new one,
Of coarse grass green!
And bleak December's winds coming,
Both bitter and keen!

You saw the fields laid bare and wasted,
And weary winter coming fast,
And cozy here, beneath the blast,
You thought to dwell,
Till crash! the cruel plough passed
Out through your cell.

That small bit heap of leaves and stubble,
Has cost you many a weary nibble!
Now you are turned out, for all your trouble,
Without house or holding,
To endure the winter's sleety dribble,
And hoar-frost cold.

But little Mouse, you are not alone,
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best laid schemes of mice and men
Go often awry,
And leave us nothing but grief and pain,
For promised joy!

Still you are blest, compared with me!
The present only touches you:
But oh! I backward cast my eye,
On prospects dreary!
And forward, though I cannot see,
I guess and fear!

This poem about a mouse is really about humanity.  Many of us have brand new worries when winter strikes and we become more cautious.  Mother Nature can wreak havoc in our lives. 

Did you know that alliteration (repeated sounds) are used to create another depth to a poem? The sounds of the W actually gives us a mouthed shush and curl of winter's wind.  The hard C compounds the cold winter frost.

The theme of the poem being the harshness of winter, all imagery in the poem speak to uncertain, mysteriousness of winter and life, in general.  Our plight, in the 1700s was not much different than that of the mouse. Mother Nature has all things in balance, no matter how much we try to allay her.  When it is cold, we are all cold.  Mother Earth makes sure we remember we are all equal.

This page was done, again, with beginning with the background in lime green, this time.   And, again, the character is made with simple shapes.  Detail is that I added some gold glitter and, of course, the dots.  When I painted the branches, I painted the branch shapes using  raw sienna on one-half of a straight edged small brush...the other half of the paintbrush was loaded with white.  I made sure and kept the white at the top of the brush stroke.  (Just sayin', because I forget and get going ).  I used some of the dragonfly glaze paint colors from Folk Art, on two of the Christmas balls and her eyes.  It is good to remember to keep odd numbers because it is more aesthetically eye-pleasing.  

©Carol Desjarlais 12.11.19