Cecil Frances Alexander (Early April 1818 – 12 October 1895 / Dublin)
Comments about Cecil Frances Alexander
Where the acorn tumbles down,
Where the ash tree sheds its berry,
With your fur so soft and brown,
With your eye so round and merry,
Scarcely moving the long grass,
Fieldmouse, I can see you pass.
Little thing, in what dark den,
Lie you all the winter sleeping?
Till warm weather comes again,