A Frosty Morning Poem

I know I promised you a review of Five go to Finniston Farm, but I’m not feeling great and it’s late, so I’m afraid you’ll have to make do with this very seasonally accurate poem for now by the grand woman herself.

A Frosty Morning

When the sun hangs low in the eastern sky,
Caught in the trees that shiver and shy,
Red as the robin that flits nearby,
Sing hey, for a frosty morning!

When the lane is a-glitter beneath our feet,
Powered with crystal, delicate, sweet,
And the quiet pond is a silver sheet,
Sing hey, for a frosty morning!

Come out, come out, while the sky is red,
Over the crunching fields to tread,
Ere the frost in the kindling sun lies dead,
Sing, hey for a frosty morning!


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2 Responses to A Frosty Morning Poem

  1. Francis says:

    Thank you for the lovely poem. I do hope you are better soon.
    Many regards


  2. RereadingBlyton says:

    Hope you are feeling better. I’m looking forward to your review of Finniston Farm. You may remember I reviewed it last year as my favourite Five (a controversial choice, I know!) so I’ll be interested to know how you rate it.



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