To a Mouse Analysis

Small, crafty, cowering, timorous little beast,
O, what a panic is in your little breast!
You need not start away so hasty
With 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 thee startle
At me, thy 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 keen!
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 past
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 blest, 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!

“To a Mouse” is a poem written by Scottish Poet Robert Burns in 1785, describing the speaker’s reaction to a mouse he finds while ploughing a field, and his realization that the mouse is similar to him/herself, merely attempting to live their life in peace. The version of the poem I have used for this analysis is the translated English version, as opposed to the original Scots dialect used to write the poem. As such, the rhyme scheme in the above copy does not accurately reflect the original rhyme scheme, which was an AABCBC format, in iambic pentameter. The poem is written from a first person limited omniscient perspective, with the speaker being a farmer, ploughing his field for crops, when he uncovers a mouse. 

The speaker, in a display of empathy uncharacteristic of farmers regarding mice, “lets” the mouse go, before reflecting on how the actions the speaker had to take ended up destroying the home of the mouse, exposing it to the harsh elements of winter. The tone of the speaker in the poem is generally reflective, and the speaker seems truly regretful for destroying the mouse’s home. The poem’s tone also implies that the speaker has gone through something similar to the mouse’s situation, especially in the last seven lines, when the speaker states: “…The best laid schemes of mice and men, Go often askew…”. The poem’s overall reflective nature implies that the speaker had a plan which went askew, most likely regarding his/her livelihood, taking into account the speaker’s profession.