I Hope Your Rambles Have Been Sweet,

One Need Not Be A Chamber To Be Haunted; One Need Not Be A House; The Brain Has Corridors Surpassing Material Place.

The Pleading Of The Summer - That Other Prank - Of Snow - That Cushions Mystery With Tulle, For Fear The Squirrels - Know.

We Do Not Play On Graves— Because There Isn't Room— Besides—it Isn't Even—it Slants And People Come— And Put A Flower On It— And Hang Their Faces So— We're Fearing That Their Hearts Will Drop— And Crush Our Pretty Play— And So We Move As Far As Enemies—away— Just Looking Round To See How Far It Is—occasionally—

A Shady Friend For Torrid Days Is Easier To Find Than One Of Higher Temperature For Frigid Hour Of Mind.

A Narrow Fellow In The Grass Occasionally Rides