Four Little Foxes

tree stump

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, forbear 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.

 

Lew Sarett (1888 – 1954)

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