Fox Footprints/At Dusk a Fox
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At Dusk a Fox
At dusk a fox had run across his path
And disappeared with smiling wicked eyes,
It was so dark he scarce could feel his way
Though all the fields were filled with fire-flies,
And every tree it seemed was murmuring
Among its leaves the words of an old song:
"At fifteen even a devil's a thistle-bloom"—
The rustling followed as he went along.
And disappeared with smiling wicked eyes,
It was so dark he scarce could feel his way
Though all the fields were filled with fire-flies,
And every tree it seemed was murmuring
Among its leaves the words of an old song:
"At fifteen even a devil's a thistle-bloom"—
The rustling followed as he went along.
Then in the darkness something brushed his sleeve,
Faint hands reached out to touch him in the gloom,
Her words were like the bright quick fire-flies—
"At fifteen even a devil's a thistle-bloom!"
Faint hands reached out to touch him in the gloom,
Her words were like the bright quick fire-flies—
"At fifteen even a devil's a thistle-bloom!"