a poem by Mary F. Butts.
by Mary F.Butts
Blow, wind, blow!
Drift the flying snow!
Send it twirling, whirling overhead!
There's a bedroom in a tree,
Where, snug as snug can be,
The squirrel nests in his cozy bed.
Shriek, wind, shriek!
Make the branches creak!
Battle with the boughs till break o' day!
In a snow cave warm and tight,
Through the icy winter night,
The rabbit sleeps the peaceful hours away.
Call, wind, call,
In entry and in hall,
Straight from of the mountain white and wild!
Soft purrs the cat
On her fluffy mat,
And beside her nestles close her furry child.
Scold, wind, scold,
So bitter and so bold!
Shake the windows with your tap, tap, tap!
With half-shut, dreamy eyes
The drowsy baby lies,
Cuddled close in his mother's lap
We also had a rather
long poem by William Shakespeare which I had found in our library.
Winter is that time of year
When clouds build up in cold skies so clear
On the top of the mountain you can see many muses
scanning for hopeful talent to inspire
to see many people ski down
Down into a wonderland of snow!