I asked the little boy who cannot see,“And what is colour like?”“Why, green,” said he,“Is like the rustle when the wind blows throughThe forest; running water, that is blue;And red is like a trumpet sound; and pinkIs like the smell of roses; and I thinkThat purple must be like a thunderstorm;And yellow is like something soft and warm;And white is a pleasant stillness when you lie“And dream.”
I asked the little boy who cannot see,
“And what is colour like?”
“Why, green,” said he,
“Is like the rustle when the wind blows through
The forest; running water, that is blue;
And red is like a trumpet sound; and pink
Is like the smell of roses; and I think
That purple must be like a thunderstorm;
And yellow is like something soft and warm;
And white is a pleasant stillness when you lie
“And dream.”