Milking Poetry

'Oh daddy' with your pink of finger tips and from which cow did you come from today? Watching; i know, from whom's udders, you drink from today? Thy milk 'oh' it runs by each sunny face you removed around the lips each love have i embraced. Milk-it thus to me daddy, milk it to me now! Take me thus to the barn! hurry me up, hurry me up, come and hurry, walk faster, before besty's leaves are blown too far away. And thus i look at it transfixed where each clear pail half full with it sloshing the milk it is thick at the top foamy and sweet and full with it. Thinking, of a quicker than i, as her pet 'humming bird' and Daisy absorbed poetry; so much more quickly and each dropp that it drips, is one less i loose, because of it. Loving one seed that she finds, and runs off too plant today and i am still hearing 'Oh Daddy' and when they milk it. Where does it come from, how does it get there? Green hay, is it sweeter than brown?