The Housekeeper

The frugal snail, with forecast of repose,

Carries his house with him where'er he goes;

Peeps out,—and, if there comes a shower of rain,

Retreats to his small domicile amain.

Touch but a tip of him, a horn—'tis well,—

He curls up in his sanctuary shell.

He's his own landlord, his own tenant; stay

Long as he will, he dreads no Quarter Day.

Himself he boards and lodges; both invites

And feasts himself; sleeps with himself o' nights.

He spares the upholsterer trouble to procure

Chattels; himself is his own furniture,

And his sole riches. Wheresoe'er he roam,—

Knock when you will,—he's sure to be at home.