Kurious Kitty is off today, but, you still need a Poetry Friday poem, right? Here's a small seasonal poem found in The Oxford Book of Children's Verse in America, chosen and edited by Donald Hall [J 811 OXF]:
by Frank Dempster Sherman (1860-1916)
Out of my window I could see
But yesterday, upon the tree,
The blossoms white, like tufts of snow
That had forgotten when to go.
And while I looked out at them, they
Seemed like small butterflies at play,
For in the breeze their flutterings
Made me imagine them with wings.
I must have fancied well, for now
There's not a blossom on the bough,
And out of doors it is raining fast,
And gusts of wind are whistling past.
With butterflies it is etiquette
To keep their wings from getting wet,
So, when they knew the storm was near,
They thought it best to disappear.
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