Four Little Foxes

Four Little Foxes by Lew Sarett


Speak gently, Spring, and make no sudden sound;

for in my windy valley, yesterday, I found

New-born foxes squirming on the ground-

speak gently.


Walk softly, March, forebear the bitter blow;

Her feet within a trap, her blood upon the snow,

the four little foxes saw their mother go-

walk softly.


Go lightly, Spring, oh, give them no alarm;

when I covered them with boughs to shelter them from harm,

the thin blue foxes suckled at my arm-

go lightly.


Step softly, March, with your rampant hurricane;

Nuzzling one another, and whimpering with pain,

the new little foxes are shivering in the rain-

step softly.


Four Little Foxes

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