"A PROFESY

Now don't look so gay

For it isn't much fun

When you've shoveled all day

And can't see what you've done.

And don't sit and stare

At the ground that's now bare;

Some day there'll be snow,

Ask Raphie-she'll know !

It will sift thru the rifts

Round the windows and door,

And pile up huge drifts

As it has done oft before.

You'll start for the barn

Then turn to go back,

This sounds like a yarn,

But you can't see your track;

for the wind-how it blows !

Ask Raphie-she knows !

It comes light as a feather,

Or as heavy as lead;

It doesn't care whether

You're up or abed.

It comes with a roar

That will rattle the door,

And you'll wake with a start

In the dead of the  night;

Then you'll know in your heart 

That Raphie was right.

When you've piled the banks high

And are weary and sore,

And you glance at the sky

And know there'll be more,

Or the plow with its blade

Rolls part of its load

In the path you've just made

Down by the road;

'Twill hurt you a bit

As you sit down to rest,

but you'll have to admit

That Raphie knew best.

Nettie A. Bullis

May 15, 1948"