The Migration of the Grey Squirrels

~William Howitt

When in my youth I traveled
Throughout each north country,
Many a strange thing did I hear,
And many a strange thing to see.

But nothing was there pleased me more
Than when, in autumn brown,
I came, in the depths of the pathless woods,
To the grey squirrels' town.

There were hundreds that in the hollow boles
Of the old, old trees did dwell,
And laid up store, hard by their door,
Of the sweet mast as it fell.

But soon the hungry wild swine came,
And with thievish snouts dug up
Their buried treasure, and left them not
So much as an acorn cup.

Then did they chatter in angry mood,
And one and all decree,
Into the forests of rich stone-pine
Over hill and dale to flee.

Over hill and dale, over hill and dale,
For many a league they went,
Like a troop of undaunted travelers
Governed by one consent.

But the hawk and the eagle, and peering owl,
Did dreadfully pursue;
And the further the grey squirrels went,
The more their perils grew;
When lo! to cut off their pilgrimage,
A broad stream lay in view.

But then did each wondrous creature show
His cunning and bravery;
With a piece of the pine-bark in his mouth,
Unto the stream came he;

And boldly his little bark he launched,
Without the least delay;
His busy tail was his upright sail,
And he merrily steered away.

Never was there a lovelier sight
Than that grey squirrels' fleet;
And with anxious eyes I watched to see
What fortune it would meet.

Soon had they reached the rough mild-stream,
And ever and anon
I grieved to behold some bark wrecked,
And its little steersman gone.

But the main fleet stoutly held across;
I saw them leap to shore;
They entered the woods with a cry of joy,
For their perilous march was o'er.

Summer

~Mittur Ramprasad

Summer season brings
Colors to the face of earth
As season's birds sings

Summer season is
Warmest of all the seasons
Weaving dreams of bliss

Season of summer
Fills heart and soul with laughter
Like blooming flower

Summer brings shimmer
By benevolence of nature
In beams of glimmer

Summer's arrival
Signals fun and festivals
And soul's revival

Summer is warmer
Shining brighter is the sun
Solace is water

Summer's diverse sounds
Is the nature's symphony
Without doubt astounds

Summer is the best
To feel the comfort of breeze
Which needs no attest

Summer is the peak
For the soul of sun to shine
And it is unique

Summer is for fun
Soaking in sweat and water
And is never done

Summer holidays
Sprinkles delight everywhere
In so many ways

Summer is the time
To think of spring and autumn
As it is sublime

WINTER TIME

Late lies the wintry sun a-bed,
a frosty, fiery sleepy-head;
Blinks but an hour or two; and then,
a blood-red orange, sets again.

Before the stars have left the skies,
at morning in the dark I rise;
and shivering in my nakedness,
By the cold candle, bathe and dress.

Close by the jolly fire I sit
to warm my frozen bones a bit;
Or with a reindeer-sled, explore
The colder countries round the door.

When to go out, my nurse doth wrap
me in my comforter and cap;
The cold wind burns my face, and blows
Its frosty pepper up my nose.

Black are my steps on silver sod;
Thick blows my frosty breath abroad;
And tree and house, and hill and lake,
Are frosted like a wedding cake.
Robert Louis Stevenson