1 мин
Слушать(AI)I Write About The Butterfly
"I write about the butterfly, It is a pretty thing; And flies about like the birds, But it does not sing. "First it is a little grub, And then it is a nice yellow cocoon, And then the butterfly Eats its way out soon. "They live on dew and honey, They do not have any hive, They do not sting like wasps, and bees, and hornets, And to be as good as they are we should strive.
Louisa May Alcott
Louisa May Alcott (November 29, 1832 – March 6, 1888) was an American novelist, short story writer and poet best known as the author of the nove
Комментарии
Вам нужно войти , чтобы оставить комментарий
Другие работы автора
From The Short Story What The Swallows Did
Swallow, swallow, neighbor swallow, Starting on your autumn flight, Pause a moment at my window, Twitter softly your good-night;
From Our Happy Home
From our happy home Through the world we roam One week in all the year, Making winter spring With the joy we bring, For Christmas-tide is here Now the eastern star Shines from afar To light the poorest home; Hearts warmer grow, Gifts freely f...
Lullaby
Now the day is done, Now the shepherd Drives his white flocks from the sky; Now the flowers
Give Me Freshening Breeze My Boys
'Give me freshening breeze, my boys, A white and swelling sail, A ship that cuts the dashing waves, And weathers every gale What life is like a sailor's life, So free, so bold, so brave His home the ocean's wide expanse, A coral bed his ...
