Explore "To the Wolf at the Door" by Oliver Herford on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
O Wolf, I do not dread thee as of yore, / Time was when I would tremble in my shoes / At sight of thee -- when lo! my pity'ng Muse / Brought me wherewith to drive thee from the door.
And since at last, O Wolf, my waning store / Has lured thee back, she will not now refuse / My invocation. So I cannot choose / But cry, "Help! Wolf! " that she may come once more.
Mine is a Muse that listens with disdain / To any call save that of appetite; / And till thou earnest all my prayers were vain, / For while my purse was full, my brain was light.
Therefore, O Wolf, I welcome thee again / To speed the Muse -- that I may dine to-night.