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.