poetry friday

Who Likes the Rain?
author unknown

“I,” said the duck. “I call it fun,
For I have my pretty red rubbers on;
They make a little three-toed track
In the soft, cool mud — quack! quack!”


“I,” cried the dandelion, “I,
My roots are thirsty, my buds are dry,”
And she lifted a tousled yellow head
Out of her green and grassy bed.


Sang the brook: “I welcome every drop,
Come down, dear raindrops; never stop
Until a broad river you make of me,
And then I will carry you to the sea.”


“I,” shouted Ted, “for I can run,
With my high-top boots and raincoat on,
Through every puddle and runlet and pool
I find on the road to school.”