Metamorphosis

I once thought with musing mind,
What if one should suddenly find
(I chuckle when I think of it!)
Oneself a snake, in a mongoose pit?
And would it not make people think,
And rave, and make a frightful stink,
Taking stock of their senses while they squirm,
If transformed into a worm?
Perhaps they’d not be so bigot
If changed into an ocelot.
Would they retain their hate and greed
As a patch of motley, brown seaweed?

     If rocks and trees and dogs,
     And elephants and hogs,
     And even a fallen leaf,
     Complain not of their grief,
     Then why should mortal man, as such,
     Make of so little, so damned much?