Give me a poem that is 1 paragraph about Robert Run's
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Answer:
Once when the snow of the year was beginning to fall,
Once when the snow of the year was beginning to fall,We stopped by a mountain pasture to say, ‘Whose colt?’
Once when the snow of the year was beginning to fall,We stopped by a mountain pasture to say, ‘Whose colt?’A little Morgan had one forefoot on the wall,
Once when the snow of the year was beginning to fall,We stopped by a mountain pasture to say, ‘Whose colt?’A little Morgan had one forefoot on the wall,The other curled at his breast. He dipped his head
Once when the snow of the year was beginning to fall,We stopped by a mountain pasture to say, ‘Whose colt?’A little Morgan had one forefoot on the wall,The other curled at his breast. He dipped his headAnd snorted at us. And then he had to bolt.
Once when the snow of the year was beginning to fall,We stopped by a mountain pasture to say, ‘Whose colt?’A little Morgan had one forefoot on the wall,The other curled at his breast. He dipped his headAnd snorted at us. And then he had to bolt.We heard the miniature thunder where he fled,
Once when the snow of the year was beginning to fall,We stopped by a mountain pasture to say, ‘Whose colt?’A little Morgan had one forefoot on the wall,The other curled at his breast. He dipped his headAnd snorted at us. And then he had to bolt.We heard the miniature thunder where he fled,And we saw him, or thought we saw him, dim and grey,
Once when the snow of the year was beginning to fall,We stopped by a mountain pasture to say, ‘Whose colt?’A little Morgan had one forefoot on the wall,The other curled at his breast. He dipped his headAnd snorted at us. And then he had to bolt.We heard the miniature thunder where he fled,And we saw him, or thought we saw him, dim and grey,Like a shadow against the curtain of falling flakes.
Once when the snow of the year was beginning to fall,We stopped by a mountain pasture to say, ‘Whose colt?’A little Morgan had one forefoot on the wall,The other curled at his breast. He dipped his headAnd snorted at us. And then he had to bolt.We heard the miniature thunder where he fled,And we saw him, or thought we saw him, dim and grey,Like a shadow against the curtain of falling flakes.‘I think the little fellow’s afraid of the snow.
Explanation: