An Appointment

    Being out of heart with government
    I took a broken root to fling
    Where the proud, wayward squirrel went,
    Taking delight that he could spring;
    And he, with that low whinnying sound
    That is like laughter, sprang again
    And so to the other tree at a bound.
    Nor the tame will, nor timid brain,
    Bred that fierce tooth and cleanly limb
    And threw him up to laugh on the bough;
    No government appointed him.