Red makes me think of apples bright All shining in the morning light, Of poppies nodding in the breeze, And cherries on the cherry-trees; But Orange comes with autumn days, With goldenrod and aster sprays; It makes me think of harvest skies, And pantries filled with pumpkin-pies. Bright Yellow makes me think of gold, The shining stars the clouds unfold, The sun wrapped up in summer haze, And all the dandelion days.
Green is the color I love best, Because it shades the sparrow’s nest: It shelters all the woodlands fair, And little children playing there. Blue makes me think of bending skies, And gentians with their fast-closed eyes; Of bluets where the river flows, And all my baby-ribbon bows. But Violet is soft and dim, And solemn as an evening hymn; And Grandma loves it best, I know, Of all the colors in the Bow.
