August
August
Poem
Deep in the wood I made a house
Where no one knew the way;
I carpeted the floor with moss,
And there I loved to play.
I heard the bubbling of the brook;
At times an acorn fell,
And far away a robin sang
Deep in a lonely dell.
I set a rock with acorn cups;
So quietly I played
A rabbit hopped across the moss,
And did not seem afraid.
That night before I went to bed
I at my window stood,
And thought how dark my house must be
Down in the lonesome wood.
Notes
Written by Katharine Pyle.
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