![]() ![]() O I perceive after all so many uttering tongues,Īnd I perceive they do not come from the roofs of mouths for nothing. This grass is very dark to be from the white heads of old mothers,ĭarker than the colorless beards of old men,ĭark to come from under the faint red roofs of mouths. It may be you are from old people, or from offspring taken soon out of their mothers’ laps, It may be if I had known them I would have loved them, It may be you transpire from the breasts of young men, ![]() Kanuck, Tuckahoe, Congressman, Cuff, I give them the same, I receive them the same.Īnd now it seems to me the beautiful uncut hair of graves. Growing among black folks as among white, ![]() Or I guess the grass is itself a child, the produced babe of the vegetation.Īnd it means, Sprouting alike in broad zones and narrow zones, Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord,Ī scented gift and remembrancer designedly dropt,īearing the owner’s name someway in the corners, that we may see and remark, and say Whose? I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green stuff woven. How could I answer the child? I do not know what it is any more than he. Winter-Time Poem by Robert Louis Stevenson | Poemotopia A child said, What is the grass?Ī child said What is the grass? fetching it to me with full hands ![]()
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