Four Little Foxes

Speak gently, Spring, and make no sudden sound;
For in my windy valley yesterday I found
New-born 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;
When 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.

Lew Sarett
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