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 again. Touch but a tip of him, a horn,—’t is 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.