by Walter De la Mare (1873 - 1956)

Grace
Language: English 
For ev'ry sip the Hen says grace;
The Rabbit twinkles his small face;
Ev'n to the Fox stol'n safely home,
A crafty grin of thanks must come;
Even the Spider, plump in net,
His manners cannot quite forget,
And when he's supped upon a fly
Puts what is over neatly by.

Oh, anyone with tongue and wits
Who crowded up with victuals sits
Through breakfasts, luncheons, dinners, teas,
With never a Thank you or a Please,
Eating not what he should but can,
Is hardly a well-mannered man.

No doubt if Cows and Sheep were able
To draw their chairs up to the table,
It's only commonsense to say
They'd keep on stuffing there all day,
They need such quantities of hay.

But though they never could let pass
A dainty dish of greens or grass,
Even the littlest lambkin would 
Express a sheepish gratitude;
While savage beasts, however staid,
Might smile upon the parlourmaid.

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This text was added to the website: 2026-09-23
Line count: 25
Word count: 155