"POPPING CORN”
THE roof-tree that shows in the attic
Its arms bare and leafless and brown,
To the eyes of the dear little children
Is reaching all wistfully down
With fruitage; they troop there and always
Bring treasure. To night in the dusk
They come and bring corn silver-kerneled,
Each ear tied by silver-white husks.
The tiny ears shelled, now the children
Are gathered around in the glow
To see how the small kernels blossom
To leaves that are white as the snow.
The eyes that are watching are eager;
The myst'ry to them as new
As if never before in the fire-heat
Leaf on leaf frail white blossoms grew.
