A Visit from Abroad

      A speck went blowing up against the sky

          As little as a leaf: then it drew near

      And broadened. -- ' It's a bird,' said I,

          And fetched my bow and arrows. It was queer!

      It grew up from a speck into a blot,

          And squattered past a cloud; then it flew down

      All crumply, and waggled such a lot

          I thought the thing would fall.--It was a brown

      Old carpet, where the man was sitting snug,

          Who, when he reached the ground, began to sew

      A big hole in the middle of the rug,

          And kept on peeping everywhere to know

      Who might be coming -- then he gave a twist

      And flew away . . . . I fired at him but missed.