Oliver Herford (Оливер Херфорд)

The Elf and the Dormouse

Under a toadstool crept a wee Elf, 
Out of the rain to shelter himself. 
 
Under the toadstool, sound asleep, 
Sat a big Dormouse all in a heap. 
 
Trembled the wee Elf, frightened and yet         
Fearing to fly away lest he get wet. 
 
To the next shelter—maybe a mile! 
Sudden the wee Elf smiled a wee smile. 
 
Tugged till the toadstool toppled in two. 
Holding it over him, gaily he flew.   
 
Soon he was safe home, dry as could be. 
Soon woke the Dormouse—"Good gracious me! 
 
"Where is my toadstool?" loud he lamented. 
—And that's how umbrellas first were invented.

1. The Puncture
2. Why Ye Blossome Cometh before Ye Leafe
3. A Song of a Heart
4. The Milk Jug
5. The Hen

Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1761

Последние стихотворения

To English version