In “To a Mouse,” the speaker reflects on the idea of human plans being disrupted and the need to accept and adapt to change. This theme is reflected in Proverbs 19:21 which says, “Many are the plans in a person’s heart, but it is the Lord’s purpose that prevails.” The speaker also expresses compassion and empathy towards the mouse, recognizing the shared experience of having one’s plans disrupted and the need to rebuild. This idea is reflected in Romans 12:15 which says, “Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn.”
Additionally, the speaker recognizes the inherent value and worth of the mouse and all living beings, as reflected in Psalm 8:5 which says, “You have made them a little lower than the angels and crowned them with glory and honor.” This respect for all of God’s creation is also reflected in the commandment to love one’s neighbor as oneself, found in Matthew 22:39.
Overall, “To a Mouse” reflects several values and teachings found in the Bible, including the need to adapt to change, the importance of compassion and empathy, and the inherent value and worth of all living beings.
“To a Mouse, On Turning Her Up in Her Nest With the Plough”, -November, 1785 (Robert Burns)*
* scroll down for “Modern English Translation”
Wee, sleekit, cowrin, tim’rous beastie,
O, what a pannic’s in thy breastie!
Thou need na start awa sae hasty,
Wi’ bickering brattle!
I wad be laith to rin an’ chase thee,
Wi’ murd’ring pattle!
I’m truly sorry man’s dominion,
Has broken nature’s social union,
An’ justifies that ill opinion,
Which makes thee startle
At me, thy poor, earth-born companion,
An’ fellow-mortal!
I doubt na, whiles, but thou may thieve;
What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!
A daimen icker in a thrave
‘S a sma’ request;
I’ll get a blessin wi’ the lave,
An’ never miss’t!
Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin!
It’s silly wa’s the win’s are strewin!
An’ naething, now, to big a new ane,
O’ foggage green
An’ bleak December’s winds ensuin,
Baith snell an’ keen!
Thou saw the fields laid bare an’ waste,
An’ weary winter comin fast,
An’ cozie here, beneath the blast,
Thou thought to dwell-
Till crash! the cruel coulter past
Out thro’ thy cell.
Thy wee bit heap o’ leaves an’ stibble,
Has cost thee mony a weary nibble!
Now thou’s turn’d out, for a’ thy trouble,
But house or hald,
To thole the winter’s sleety dribble,
An’ cranreuch cauld!
But, Mousie, thou art no thy-lane,
In proving foresight may be vain;
The best-laid schemes o’ mice an’ men
Gang aft agley,
An’ lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain,
For promis’d joy!
Still thou art blest, compar’d wi’ me
The present only toucheth thee:
But, Och! I backward cast my e’e.
On prospects drear!
An’ forward, tho’ I canna see,
I guess an’ fear!
The new poem “To a Farmer” can be seen as a reply to the original poem “To a Mouse.” In the original poem, the speaker reflects on the experience of turning up a mouse’s nest while plowing and expresses compassion and empathy towards the mouse. The new poem takes this theme of compassion and empathy and expands upon it, as the mouse speaks directly to the farmer and forgives him for destroying her home. The mouse also trusts in God’s plan and encourages the farmer to do the same, ultimately encouraging the farmer to serve and praise God. In this way, the new poem builds upon and responds to the themes and ideas presented in the original poem, creating a dialogue between the two speakers.
“To a Farmer, on Forgiving and Trusting in God’s Plan“, – December, 2022 (Nathanial Brandon Howell)
Oh farmer, kind and gentle soul,
I bear you no ill will,
For though you turned my nest up whole,
I know you did it still
With good intentions in your heart,
To till the soil and sow,
And though my home did fall apart,
I know it was not so
That you could revel in my woe,
But rather, to provide
For those who hunger and who grow,
And those for whom you strive
To feed and clothe and shelter them,
In all that you do best,
And though my plans were laid so slim,
I lay no blame, nor rest
In anger or in bitterness,
But rather, turn to prayer,
Asking the Lord to bless and bless,
And keep you in His care
For you are but a vessel, used
To do His perfect will,
And though my home has been reduced,
I know He works to fulfill
A greater purpose, yet unknown,
But trust in Him, I must,
For He is good, and He has shown
His love and grace to us
So farmer, do not grieve or mourn,
But rather, take heart and see
That though my home was overthrown,
The Lord is working mightily
To bring about His perfect plan,
And though it may not seem
That all is lost, understand
That in His hands, all things redeem
So let us both give thanks and praise,
To Him who reigns on high,
And let us both spend all our days
In service to His eye.
To A Mouse (Modern English Translation)
Small, crafty, cowering, timorous little beast,
Oh, what a panic is in your breast!
You need not start away so hasty
With your hurrying scamper
I would be loath to run and chase you,
With murdering plough-staff.
I’m truly sorry man’s dominion
Has broken Nature’s social union,
And justifies that ill opinion
Which makes you startle
At me, your poor, earth born companion
And fellow mortal!
I doubt not, sometimes, but you may steal;
What then? Poor little beast, you must live!
An odd ear in twenty-four sheaves
Is a small request;
I will get a blessing with what is left,
And never miss it.
Your small house, too, in ruin!
Its feeble walls the winds are scattering!
And nothing now, to build a new one,
Of coarse grass green!
And bleak December’s winds coming,
Both bitter and piercing!
You saw the fields laid bare and wasted,
And weary winter coming fast,
And cozy here, beneath the blast,
You thought to dwell,
Till crash! the cruel plough passed
Out through your cell.
That small bit heap of leaves and stubble,
Has cost you many a weary nibble!
Now you are turned out, for all your trouble,
Without house or holding,
To endure the winter’s sleety dribble,
And hoar-frost cold.
But little Mouse, you are not alone,
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best laid schemes of mice and men
Go often askew,
And leave us nothing but grief and pain,
For promised joy!
Still you are blessed, compared with me!
The present only touches you:
But oh! I backward cast my eye,
On prospects dreary!
And forward, though I cannot see,
I guess and fear!
Mortal Metamorphosis 
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