A speck went blowing up against the sky <br />As little as a leaf: then it drew near <br />And broadened. -- ' It's a bird,' said I, <br />And fetched my bow and arrows. It was queer! <br />It grew up from a speck into a blot, <br />And squattered past a cloud; then it flew down <br />All crumply, and waggled such a lot <br />I thought the thing would fall. -- It was a brown <br />Old carpet, where the man was sitting snug, <br />Who, when he reached the ground, began to sew <br />A big hole in the middle of the rug, <br />And kept on peeping everywhere to know <br />Who might be coming -- then he gave a twist <br />And flew away . . . . I fired at him but missed.<br /><br />James Brunton Stephens<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-visit-from-abroad-2/
