A week ago I had a fire <br />To warm my feet, my hands and face; <br />Cold winds, that never make a friend, <br />Crept in and out of every place. <br /> <br />Today the fields are rich in grass, <br />And buttercups in thousands grow; <br />I'll show the world where I have been-- <br />With gold-dust seen on either shoe. <br /> <br />Till to my garden back I come, <br />Where bumble-bees for hours and hours <br />Sit on their soft, fat, velvet bums, <br />To wriggle out of hollow flowers.<br /><br />William Henry Davies<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/all-in-june/
