The Rainbow

The rainbow arches in the sky,

But in the earth it ends;

But if you ask the reason why,

They'll tell you: “That depends.”

It never comes without the rain,

Nor goes without the sun;

But though you try with might and main,

You'll never catch me one.

Perhaps you'll see it once a year,

Perhaps you'll say: “No, twice”;

But every time it does appear,

It's very clean and nice.

If I were God, I'd like to win

At sun-and-moon croquet:

I'd drive the rainbow-wickets in

And ask someone to play.

Rate this poem: 

Reviews

No reviews yet.