
The speaker addresses a small, frightened mouse whose nest has been destroyed by a plough. He assures the creature that he does not wish to chase or kill it, and regrets that human power over nature has made animals fear people, despite their shared earthly mortality. He acknowledges that the mouse may sometimes steal a little grain, but excuses this as necessary for its survival and says he can spare such a small loss. He grieves for the mouse’s ruined home, whose fragile walls are scattered by the wind. With no green material left to build another shelter, the mouse faces the harsh, cold winds of December. The mouse had seen winter approaching and had chosen a sheltered place beneath the blast, expecting to live there safely until the ploughshare violently tore through its dwelling. Its small heap of leaves and stubble had required much labour to gather, yet it is now homeless and exposed to sleet and frost. The speaker reflects that the mouse is not alone in discovering that careful plans can fail: the best schemes of mice and men often go wrong, replacing hoped-for happiness with grief and pain. Yet he concludes that the mouse is still more fortunate than he is, because it suffers only in the present, while he is troubled by memories of bleak things behind him and fearful guesses about what may lie ahead.
By Robert Burns · First published 1786 · Genre: Lyric Poetry, Nature Poetry, Pastoral Poetry · 490 words
Wee, sleekit, cow'rin, tim'rous beastie, / O, what a panic's in thy breastie! / Thou need na start awa sae hasty, / Wi' bickering brattle! / I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee, / Wi' murd'ring pattle!
I'm truly sorry man's dominion, / Has broken nature's social union, / An' justifies that ill opinion, / Which makes thee startle / At me, thy poor, earth-born companion, / An' fellow-mortal!
Scottish poetry · Scots language · eighteenth-century literature · pastoral poetry · nature poetry · dramatic monologue · rural Scotland · farm labor · ploughing · field mouse · humanity and nature · animal suffering
To a Mouse, on Turning her up in her Nest with the Plough is listed on Textopian as a poem by Robert Burns, dated 1786 CE.
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