I've had picture books on the brain a lot recently, for a number of different reasons. Partly because I'm driving out tonight to pick up my favorite picture book of all time (The Library by Sarah Stewart and David Small) that I ordered from my local bookstore. Second because of my children's book blog. The third reason I hope to tell you about soon but I'm trying hard not to write or think about at the moment.
We also had our first real taste of snow yesterday and today I just want to hibernate. I was reminded last night how much I hate winter. When the snow starts to fly I just want to stay indoors, curl up under a blanket, read, sip cocoa, and hibernate. What better way to do that than with a poem about both picture books and winter.
Picture-Books in Winter
by Robert Louis Stevenson
Summer fading, winter comes—
Frosty mornings, tingling thumbs
Window robins, winter rooks,
And the picture story-books.
Water now is turned to stone
Nurse and I can walk upon;
Still we find the flowing brooks
In the picture story-books.
All the pretty things put by,
Wait upon the children's eye,
Sheep and shepherds, trees and crooks,
In the picture story-books.
We may see how all things are,
Seas and cities, near and far,
And the flying fairies' looks,
In the picture story-books.
How am I to sing your praise,
Happy chimney-corner days,
Sitting safe in nursery nooks,
Reading picture story-books?
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