What The Rattlesnake Said by Vachel Lindsay

The moon’s a little prairie-dog.
He shivers through the night.
He sits upon his hill and cries
For fear that I will bite.

The sun’s a broncho. He’s afraid
Like every other thing,
And trembles, morning, noon and night,
Lest I should spring, and sting.

See also  A Little Grey Curl by Louisa May Alcott
Leave a Reply 0

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *