On a day like today I am stung by the splendor of a sudden thought. - Robert Browning

Stung by the splendour of a sudden thought.

Rats! They fought the dogs and killed the cats, And bit the babies in the cradles, And ate the cheeses out of the vats, And licked the soup from the cooks' own ladles, Split open the kegs of salted sprats, Made nests inside men's Sunday hats, And even spoiled the women's chats By drowning their speaking With shrieking and squeaking In fifty different sharps and flats.

The hill-cat boasts some cunning of her own,
Some stealthy tricks to better beasts unknown
That quick with prey enough her hunger blunts
And feeds her fat while gaunt the lion hunts.

That low man seeks a little thing to do, Sees it and does it. This high man, with a great thing to pursue, Dies ere he knows it.
That low man goes on adding one to one,— His hundred's soon hit;
This high man, aiming at a million, Misses an unit.
That has the world here—should he need the next, Let the world mind him!
This throws himself on God, and unperplexed Seeking shall find him.