THE NEW DUCKLING

“IWANTto be new,” said the duckling,

“O, ho!” said the wise old owl,

While the guinea-hen cluttered off chucklin

To tell all the rest of the fowl.

“I should like a more elegant figure,

That child of a duck went on.

“I should like to grow bigger and bigger,

Until I could swallow a swan.

“I won’t be the bond-slave of habit.

I won’t have these webs on my toes.

I want to run round like a rabbit,

A rabbit as red as a rose.”

“Do you know,” said the turkey, “you’re quacking!

There’s a fox creeping up through the rye;

And, if you’re not utterly lacking,

You’ll make for that duck pond. Good-bye!”

“I won’t,” said the duckling. “I’ll lift him

A beautiful song like a sheep;

And when I have—as it were—biffed him

I’ll give him my feathers to keep.”

Now the curious end of this fable

— So far as the rest ascertained,

Though they searched from the barn to the stable, —

Was that only his feathers remained .

So he wasn’t the bond-slave of habit,

And he didn’t have webs on his toes;

And perhaps he runs round like a rabbit,

A rabbit as red as a rose.

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