The brook is his only friend
When he travels . . .
Silverhorn, Silverhorn!
SPARKLING DROP OF WATER
The sun shone,
All was still.
The sun made one sparkle in one drop
Before it fell
Down into the mossy green
That was the grass.
It lay there silent
A long time.
The sun went, the moon came,
Again one sparkle in the grass!
Day then night, sun then moon,
Year in, year out,
So it went on with its life
For several years
Until at last it was never heard of
Any more.
HAY-COCK
This is another kind of sweetness
Shaped like a bee-hive:
This is the hive the bees have lefts
It is from this clover-heap
They took away the honey
For the other hive!
ONLY MORNING-GLORY THAT FLOWERED
Under the vine I saw one morning-glory
A tight unfolding bud
Half out.
He looked hard down into my lettuce-bed.
He was thinking hard.
He said I want a friend!
I was standing there:
I said, Well, I am here! Don't you see me?
But he thought and thought.
The next day I found him happy,
Quite out,
Looking about the world.
The wind blew sweet airs,
Carried away his perfume in the sun;
And near by swung a new flower
Uncurling its hands . . .
He was not thoughtful
Any more!
WEATHER
Weather is the answer
When I can't go out into flowery places;
Weather is my wonder
About the kind of morning
Hidden behind the hills of sky.
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