Hilda Conkling

Little Snail

I saw a little snail

Come down the garden walk.

He wagged his head this way . . . that way . . .

Like a clown in a circus.

He looked from side to side

As though he were from a different country.

I have always said he carries his house on his back . . .

To-day in the rain

I saw that it was his umbrella!