Wednesday, March 11, 2015

Playing with Friends


How good to lie a little while
   And look up through the tree--
The sky is like a kind big smile
   Bent sweetly over me.

The Sunshine flickers through the lace
   Of leaves above my head,
And kisses me upon the face
   Like Mother, before bed.

The Wind comes stealing o'er the grass
   To whisper pretty things;
And though I cannot see him pass,
   I feel his careful wings.

So many gentle Friends are near
   Whom one can scarcely see,
A child should never feel a fear,
   Wherever he may be.

~Abbie Farwell Brown

Stevenson, Burton Egbert. 
New York: Henry Holt and Company, 1956. Print.

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