“A Mushroom Grows In The Forest” — Image by kenne
The Elf and the Dormouse
UNDER a toadstool crept a wee Elf,
Out of the rain to shelter himself.
Under the toadstool, sound asleep,
Sat a big Dormouse all in a heap.
Trembled the wee Elf, frightened and yet
Fearing to fly away lest he get wet.
To the next shelter—maybe a mile!
Sudden the wee Elf smiled a wee smile.
Tugged till the toadstool toppled in two.
Holding it over him, gaily he flew.
Soon he was safe home, dry as could be.
Soon woke the Dormouse—”Good gracious me!
“Where is my toadstool?” loud he lamented.
—And that’s how umbrellas first were invented.
— Oliver Herford
If only one could tell true love from false love as one can tell mushrooms from toadstools.
— Katherine Mansfield
I struggle with both toadstools and mushrooms but, after 38 years, I’m starting to think that I was right when I thought I was falling in love.
Thanks for the comment.
Haven’t heard this poem in years so it was a delight to hear the legend of the first umbrella.
Glad it brought back memories.
Reblogged this on Becoming is Superior to Being.