Four Little Foxes

SPEAK gently, Spring, and make no sudden sound;
For in my windy valley yesterday I found
Newborn foxes squirming on the ground —
Speak gently.
Walk softly, March, forbear the bitter blow.
Her feet within a trap, her blood upon the snow,
The four little foxes saw their mother go —
Walk softly.
Go lightly, Spring, oh, give them no alarm;
As I covered them with boughs to shelter them from harm,
The thin blue foxes suckled at my arm —
Go lightly.
Step softly, March, with your rampant hurricane;
Nuzzling one another, and whimpering with pain,
The new little foxes are shivering in the rain —
Step softly.