Poems by a Little Girl | ||
MORNING
THERE is a brook I must hearBefore I go to sleep.
There is a birch tree I must visit
Every night of clearness.
I have to do some dreaming,
I have to listen a great deal,
Before light comes back
By a silver arrow of cloud,
And I rub my eyes and say
It must be morning on this hill!
Poems by a Little Girl | ||