You can see the wavy specks

Of bubble-color on their necks;

—Little, little Cloud.

Cloud that goes, the very way

All the Bubbles do:

Blue and green, and green and gray,

Gold and rosy, too.

And they talk as Bubbles could

If they only ever would

Talk and call and coo!

—Till you try to catch one so,

Just to make it stay

While the colors turn. But Oh,

Then they fly away!—

All at once, two, three, four, five—

Like a snowstorm all alive,—

Gray and white, and gray!

[Pg 11]

Concerning Love

 wish she would not ask me if I love the Kitten more than her.

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