by Louis MacNeice
The squirrel is happy, the squirrel is gay,
Little Henry exclaimed to his brother,
He has nothing to do or to think of but play,
And to jump from one bough to another.
But William was older and wiser and knew
That all play and no work wouldn't answer,
So he asked what the squirrel in winter must do,
If he spent all the summer a dancer.
The squirrel, dear Harry, is merry and wise,
For true wisdom and mirth go together ;
He lays up in summer his winter supplies,
And then he don't mind the cold weather.
And, here’s an excerpt from Barton’s poem called Winter Evenings.
Today is the birthday of the prolific English Quaker poet Bernard Barton who was born on January 31, 1784.