Footprints now on bread or cake Merely are what a mouse can make, You cannot open any door And find a brownie on the floor, Or, in the window where he went, A fork, a spoon, a finger-dent. Farmers climbing from the mow Suprise no imp beneath a cow -- Milking madly! Breakfast bells Are never tinkled from dry wells, The commonwealth is gone that shut Its felons in a hazel-nut. Forests are no longer full Of fairy women who can pull A leaf around them, and can dance Upon the very breath of plants. River-rocks are bare of men Who wring their beards and dive again. . . . Is there nothing left to see? There is the squirrel. There is the bee. There is the chipmunk on the wall, And the first yellow every fall. There is the humming bird, the crow. There is the lantern on the snow. There is the new-appearing corn. There is the colt a minute born . . . Run and see, and say how many -- There are more if there is any! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CYMON AND IPHIGENIA by GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO TO MY HONORED FRIEND SIR ROBERT HOWARD by JOHN DRYDEN IN THE MORNING by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR LA BELLA BONA ROBA by RICHARD LOVELACE ANONYMOUS by JOHN BANISTER TABB MYRMIDONES: THE WOUNDED EAGLE by AESCHYLUS |