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“Where do you go,
Sweet, happy bird,
When wild winds blow
And storms are heard?
Do you not dread the rushing rain,
And wish the sky was bright again?”
“Tweet oh! I fly
To nestlings near—
To hush their cry,
And soothe their fear;
And o’er them all my wings I fold,
To keep them safely from the cold.”
“Where do you run,
Dear little duck?
Is the rain fun,
And best of luck?”
“Oh, yes! Quack! quack! I swim in glee,
It never pours too hard for me!”
“Of course, good sheep,
You do not care—
Out-doors you keep
Through foul and fair;
Your coat is surely thick enough
To shield you from a tempest rough?”
“Baa! baa! baa! baa!
I let the geese
Have all the wet;
For should my fleece
All soaking get,
’Twould be too heavy for my play—
So to my shed I skip away.”
“Why do you croak
So long and loud,
Queer froggie folk,
When comes a cloud?”
“Cree-crake! cree-crake!
Because our pollywogs, we know,
When ponds are full will nicely grow!”
“But, bumble-bee,
Your gauzy wings,
It seems to me,
Are flimsy things;
Should they get drenched, ’twould spoil them quite,
And you’d be in a sorry plight!”
“I crawl beneath
A lily bell—
A lovely sheath
That suits me well,
And when—buzz! buzz!—the sun I greet,
The roses all are fresh and sweet.”
“Well, surely you,
My little lad,
Feel very blue
In weather sad?
You mope and fret and whine and frown,
To see the torrents driving down!”
“Oh, ho! oh, ho!
You do not know;
For thus, you see,
My trowsers go
Up to my knee;
I make believe to wade and splash
In puddles nice, with Puss and Dash,
And we pretend the shower pours
As hard within as out of doors!”
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