A little anemometer On the weather-bureau high Was set to measure off the wind That whistled through the sky. As the wind blew hard or the wind blew soft, So swift he turned or slow, And just the number of miles an hour His dial-plate would show. But the little anemometer On the weather-bureau tall Decided, very innocent, 'Twas he that did it all. So when the wind blew a hurricane -- "I'm a terrible fellow!" he cried; And when the wind was a zephyr mild -- "I'm too tired to blow," he sighed. Until one melancholy day A little breeze, in fun, Twisted the anemometer So that it couldn't run; And thus it learned that the heavens work On an independent plan, And it grew to be a modest machine And ceased to be like a man. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PRECIOUS WORDS by EMILY DICKINSON MY LADY'S PLEASURE by ROBERT GRAHAM THE RUINED MAID by THOMAS HARDY ENGLAND'S DEAD by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS THE DARK MAN by NORA (CHESSON) HOPPER MONNA INNOMINATA, A SONNET OF SONNETS: 8 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI |