Summer fading, winter comes-- <br />Frosty mornings, tingling thumbs, <br />Window robins, winter rooks, <br />And the picture story-books. <br /> <br />Water now is turned to stone <br />Nurse and I can walk upon; <br />Still we find the flowing brooks <br />In the picture story-books. <br /> <br />All the pretty things put by, <br />Wait upon the children's eye, <br />Sheep and shepherds, trees and crooks, <br />In the picture story-books. <br /> <br />We may see how all things are <br />Seas and cities, near and far, <br />And the flying fairies' looks, <br />In the picture story-books. <br /> <br />How am I to sing your praise, <br />Happy chimney-corner days, <br />Sitting safe in nursery nooks, <br />Reading picture story-books?<br /><br />Robert Louis Stevenson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/picture-books-in-winter/
