“CHICKS.”

CHICKS.”

OUR little Chicks in the springtime,
Out in the warm sunshine.
Three of the chicks are Biddy Hen’s,

And one of them is mine.

Biddy’s wee chicks are yellow gold,
Mine like a rose so fair,
Hers are in downy jackets soft,

Mine must have clothes that tear.

I wonder sometimes if Biddy Hen,
Clucking the whole day through,
Isn’t answering. countless questions,

Just as I have to do.
Elizabeth S. Tucker.

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