If It Were January All The Yea
By Annette Wynne
If it were January all the year,
I wonder if I’d like it here,
Finding every place I go—
Snow, snow, always snow!
Snow upon the lane and street,
Snow wherever children meet,
And the houses made of snow,
And the school where children go.
Do you think I’d grow to be
A child quite different from me,
Who’d never seen a thing but snow?
Would I be an Eskimo?
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