Favorite Colour

I met a child a year ago
Whose eyes would never see
She asked me with a timid smile
«What colour is a tree?»
«In summertime a tree is green;
In autumn gold and red;
In winter they are frosted white
When all their leaves are shed.»
«I know the sky is blue,» she said
«And silver is the sand;
And apples are the brightest red
What colour is a man?»
«Man is many colours child:
Some are yellow, some are brown
And some are black as sightlssness
Some white as iderdown.»
She took her crayons from a box
And placed them in my glove
And said, «By mixing all of these
Comes my favourite colour--love.»