When the wind comes calling
Mother Poppy shakes herself,
Brown and crinkled makes herself,
Opens little windows wide,
Drops her babies down outside,
Sees them softly falling
When the wind comes calling.
The Bird Bath
There is a bird bath on our grass,
I wait to watch it as I pass,
And see the little sparrow things
Stand on the edge with flapping wings.
They give each eye a merry wink
And stoop to take a little drink,
And then, before I'm fairly gone,
They bath with all their clothing on!
Autumn
Yellow the bracken,
Golden the sheaves,
Rosy the apples,
Crimson the leaves;
Mist on the hillside,
Clouds grey and white.
Autumn, good morning!
Summer, good night!
Who?
Who will feed the dicky-birds on the garden wall?
Winter-time is very big—they are very small!
Who will feed the dicky-birds on the frozen trees?
Every little twitter means, "Feed us, if you please!"
Who will feed the dicky-birds in the frost and snow?
See them on the chimney-pot, cuddled in a row!
Who will feed the dicky-birds till the days of spring?
Think of what they do for you and the songs they sing!