A few days ago, my daughter was challenged to write a limerick. She didn't find it easy, so her brother, hoping to help her with the challenge, scanned our shelves and gave her a Book of Poetry he had gotten for Christmas when he was probably about 7. And probably never opened since that Christmas morning soo long ago.
Sob! (Thinking back to those days always makes me a bit misty eyed. I am one of those women who really enjoyed having a handful of little children under her feet.)
My son suggested that the following poem from his Christmas book might fit nicely on my blog. I agreed, so here it is:
Kindness To Animals
Little children, never give
Pain to things that feel and live;
Let the gentle robin come
For the crumbs you save at home;
As his meat you throw along
He'll repay you with a song.
Never hurt the timid hare
Peeping from her green grass lair,
Let her come and sport and play
On the lawn at close of day.
The little lark goes soaring high
To the bright windows of the sky,
Singing as if 'twere always spring,
Amd fluttering on an untrired wing-
Oh! let him sing his happy song,
Nor do these gentle creatures wrong.