Homeward Bound

Be careful not to hate the moth,
It isn’t she who eats your cloth,
But only little ones of her
That lunch on tweeds and dine on furs.
Who but a jingo his heart could steel
To spray these innocents out of a meal?
My heart is mush, so come on, larvae,
My closet’s full and I’m Fred Harvey.

By Ogden Nash

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