Classic Poem

The drawing room in his house is filled with animals.
Animals cast in bronze, steel and brass.
Trained to remain quiet, they
turned to quite a noisy racket last night.

It was the turn of the dogs yesterday.

One's bark sparks off the rest.

Restless, on hearing that, the foxes begin to howl.
The brass lion rose up to roar.
Roar's the word in the textbook;
tried, but having caught a cold, forsook
returned to the cave itself.

When the singers were settled after the symphony
I too dozed, but
couldn't bark.

So that's all for now, isn't it enough.