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Picture Credits:
In the summer month of August
Or September's waning moon,
When the nights are warm and quiet
With no sound of lark or loon;
If you strain your ears to listen
By the fields of tasseled corn,
You can hear the padded hoofbeats
Of the harvest unicorn;
And if you should be as lucky
As my cousin Robin Fry,
You might just get a glimpse of him
As he goes trotting by.
He will come up from the river
Where the tributary flows,
Treading softly for his breakfast
Long before the rooster crows.
If you ever hope to see him
You must rise before the dawn,
And sneak down to the corn field
Just as quiet as a fawn;
For the slightest tap or tinkle,
Or a sneeze, or half a cough,
And that fleetest of all creatures
Will go quickly dashing off.
So be careful to breathe easy,
Do not make the slightest sound,
Never mind that older people
Say there's no such thing around;
For the unicorn of harvest,
Though he's strong, and sleek, and bright;
Is not visible to grown-ups,
Only children in the night.
***************************
If you like unicorn stories, I invite you to
go to "Serials" in Workshop and read my story
"Karen and the Unicorn"
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