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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
A BOY'S HANDS, by ALBERT EDMUND TROMBLY
First Line: Locked all the winter long
Last Line: To make a fine whistle.
Subject(s): Hands
First Line: Locked all the winter long
Last Line: To make a fine whistle.
Subject(s): Hands
Locked all the winter long
In mittens and pockets,
Now breaking out in song
Like set off rockets.
Crusted, frost-bitten, and chapped
And bony as gristle --
Boxwood's not near so apt
To make a fine whistle.
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