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“Hide-and-Seek,” Friend, July 1993, 30


I have a little sister,

Not much littler than me,

Who first thing summer mornings

Likes to play hide-and-seek.

She spots a chirping cricket

And stalks the bees that hum

To where the wild dandelions

Glisten in the sun.

She gathers pretty rocks

And cherries from the tree.

She finds four-leaf clovers,

But she never finds me.