Countee Cullen (Каунти Каллен)

The Unknown Color

I've often heard my mother say,
When great winds blew across the day,
And, cuddled close and out of sight,
The young pigs squealed with sudden fright
Like something speared or javelined,
"Poor little pigs, they see the wind."

1. Under the Mistletoe
2. Harlem Wine
3. In Memory of Col. Charles Young
4. Uncle Jim
5. Song in Spite of Myself

Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1777

Последние стихотворения

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