Friday, January 20, 2012

A Squirrel Poem

To A Squirrel At Kyle-na-gno

by W.B. Yeats (1865-1939)

COME play with me; 
Why should you run 
Through the shaking tree 
As though I’d a gun 
To strike you dead?
When all I would do 
Is to scratch your head 
And let you go. 

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