Snowstorm

________________________________________________
Title:     Snowstorm
Author: Hilda Conkling [More Titles by Conkling]

Snowflakes are dancing.
They run down out of heaven.
Coming home from somewhere down the long tired road
They flake us sometimes
The way they do the grass,
And the stretch of the world.
The grass-blades are crowned with snowflakes.
They make me think of daisies
With white frills around their necks
With golden faces and green gowns;
Poor little daisies,
Tip-toe and shivering
In the cold!

[The end]
Hilda Conkling's poem: Snowstorm

________________________________________________



GO TO TOP OF SCREEN