“Whose tears are running
Down the window-pane?”
“Never mind,” said funny Loo—
“It is the King of Spain
Who is weeping tears of gold
To wake the crocus cold” ...
Then, running like bunnies in the warm spring rain
My thoughts go lumping out to Timbuctoo,
They steal gold cherries from a pirate crew,
They steal golden wool from the trees for you—
Then through the green fields of corn go running home to Loo.
[Illustration:
“Whose tears are running
Down the window-pane?”
]