Two wisps of flame that twist and flash about
(Well imaged in Debussy's lovely score).
Summer was over, so they fished you out
From where you sported in the out-of-door.

And here I find you, after many days
Of absence, swimming in a kitchen dish;
I who am darkly ignorant of the ways
Of finny pets — I never kept a fish.

Your gentle mistress has forgotten you;
She'll be so sorry when I send her word.
She never dreamed you'd live the summer thro';
She thinks the cat has got you, or some bird.

But here you are, as lively as can be,
Twisting and darting in a rusty tub.
Confound it! I suppose it's up to me
To change your water and to find you grub.

What do you eat? Or do you thrive without?
Quelle corvee! (which is French for " What a chore! " ).
I half suspect I'd spill you down the spout
Were't not for Claude Debussy's Poissons d'Or .