Mouse

He said in reply, "He who sows good seed is the Son of Man,
the field is the world, the good seed the children of the kingdom.
The weeds are the children of the evil one,
and the enemy who sows them is the devil.
The harvest is the end of the age, and the harvesters are angels."
--Matthew 13:24-43

The hand of heaven made the mouse:
Infinite care made gnawer’s teeth,
fur like a shadow in the house,
to pass as swiftly as a breath
along the furrows of the wheat
and nibble scattered seeds to death.

Oh, but the weeds are scattered, too:
Their seeds afar by wind or hand
into the furrow fall as dew,
feast for the mouse in midnight glut.
Yet there is fear in fertile land
and owls soar where the plow has cut.

Then will the talons cut like plows—
silent the flyer by heaven formed!
Between the rows death stalks the mouse.
The Lord who gives will take away
by hunt or time, by drought or storm,
and mouse or owl, not one will stay.

The weeds and wheat grow side by side,
and who but angels knows the seeds?
They grow up tall in strength and pride
‘til God who made them both gives word.
God bless the wheat and bless the weeds;
God save the mouse and save the bird.

Church of Saint Mary, Selborne - Roundel 3, stained glass window above the side altar - Hedgehog, Stoat etc. Photo by Rob Farrow, CC BY-SA 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=129614561