If You Were To Take A Holiday In...
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Poems
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Do you know the poem written by Frances M. Frost and if so e-mail it to me at [email protected]
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Night of wind
How lost is the little fox at the borders of night,
Poised in the forest of fern, in the trample of the wind!
Caught by the blowing cold of the mountain darkness,
He shivers and runs under tall trees, whimpering,
Brushing the tangles of dew. Pausing and running,
He searches the warm and shadowy hollow, the deep
Home on the mountain's side where the nuzzling, soft
Bodies of little foxes may hide and sleep.
Author � Frances Frost
How lost is the little fox at the borders of night,
Poised in the forest of fern, in the trample of the wind!
Caught by the blowing cold of the mountain darkness,
He shivers and runs under tall trees, whimpering,
Brushing the tangles of dew. Pausing and running,
He searches the warm and shadowy hollow, the deep
Home on the mountain's side where the nuzzling, soft
Bodies of little foxes may hide and sleep.
Author � Frances Frost
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