English poem
The Timid Oyster
by Nora Archibald Smith (1859–1934)
Look upon the timid oyster, Ever growing moist and moister, As he hides within his cloister By the sea. To all common human seeing, We can hardly help agreeing, Never yet was calmer being Than is he!
Yet with nerves he has his troubles, And when thunder boils and bubbles, Then his nervousness redoubles, So they say. He has nowhere to betake him, When the thunder-terrors shake him, No asylum can he make him, Far away.
Timid, shrinking little oyster, Do you never yearn to royster, In your damp and dusky cloister, ’Mid the storm? As we tenderly inspect you, How we hanker to protect you, From all storm-winds to deflect you, Keep you warm.
Come to us when noise annoys you, When sweet hope no longer buoys you, When the thunder-peal destroys you, Come at will. Condiments we’ll have to meet you, Ice and lemon bring to greet you, But though grandly thus we’ll treat you, We’ll be still!