LITTLE PAPOOSE:
Reading edition
Little papoose swung high in the branches Hears a song of birds, stars, clouds, Small nests of birds, Small buds of flowers. But he is thinking of his mother with dark hair Like her horse's mane. Fair clouds nod to him Where he swings in the tree, But he is thinking of his father Dark and glistening and wonderful, Of his father with a voice like ice and velvet, And tones of falling water, Of his father who shouts Like a storm.