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Rh My father frowned rebuke ; his brother said, " The child is still so young, Cadwallader ; When Agnes was that age I humoured her. Come hither, Elin, I will show you here The wonders that lie hidden in the world Of infusoria." So through his glass I looked, and saw a teeming mass of life, A seething, writhing, crawling, ashy life, And cried, " I do not like our world at all, It is so ghastly ugly underneath." The savants banished me, and, nothing loth, I fled to where my cousins were at work — We all did work, we Prynnes, being sad and poor. Sweet Agnes wove a silver web of song, And Mark, her cousin and mine, drove on a pen That like a thirsty bird drank up the ink. While I — I taught a most majestic cat That claws were made for sheathing, not to scratch, Until the bright-eyed mice came boldly forth, And puss was useless, being civilized.