Josephine Preston Peabody (Жозефина Престон Пибоди)
Pigeons Out Walking
They never seem to hurry,--no, Even for the crowd. They dip, and coo, and move as slow, All so soft and proud! 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!
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