1 . oll an old attustometl phrast, we tould cut mean. lloustn lane believed in mopping' with it with a knife: a distinct aroma ol unmonia the broom and sweeping with the mop with filled the room. results you tnay well imagine. She didn't 'tfjh' Im, ,mv lltv-ms. lfll-:uc d,,,,'l tp, limi. care lor the broom because it scattered too I had it open just a while ago and it really IIIIIVI1 111181. l C5110 mul It Us llmllgll SIIG l'VClAf' is quite fresh in here, don't. you think? 'I'his l'li'l'U'S' HUIII 3. Emil IH- SIIG Mulillll' WWII 'I' last, she hopefully put to the rest ol' the Iam- the middle ol the Iloor and shook the mop ily. she's been sweeping with. It's times like that when Father reminds Mother that Cousin tty Id open it just a eraek, il' I were you, Mother winked at me. .lane isn't his IQHIIIIIYIS fault. Mother then asks Father who's responsible lor Aunts Jean, Cousin -lane shivered violently all through Mae Lillie and Sarah as well as Great llueles . , . . ,. ,. . V, . ' . . ' ' ' the meal, although het stat was practically Horace and Percy :md t I Q part ol the radiator. . , , . . . It happens every spring around our house. Ihe alternoon was spent t-leaning up alter Cousin hIane's cleaning up. il' you see what I .XLISON Wttttmts, 'Sl REALITY Yesterday. when I was young In sunshine bright, with glad songs sung, Iiut lor a moment sparks, and then Is gone and all is black again. .Xnd I aiu leI't, IIf'IUTL', alone. bt mtl new md Iree. Eaeh welcome day. 'z Stretehed open arms inviting me 'l'o play and dreatn and gently drift, Upon a pebble chipped from stone XVith only faint assurity- butdtns ltltf-f No pam to bear or ' - 0 .-X carefree haze ol' happin Eternity, eau it be this? CSS Eternity, tan it be now lVith apple blossoms on the bough sunshine drowned in summer r'un painted leaves: my window pane Intrieately lrosted-patterns there Xllltieli never will the artists dare lo mimic' in their solt desi 'I'he broken braneh. the lost wiml's whine: And 'I'he Qill Ihts ltle we live, yet know not h lxternity. tan it be now? I',lt'l'Illly. lllll ll IX' IN'IlL'I'C 'ue lrtre' 4 Ihe world ls tleadftts sutl. XYhere eoltl liy es. in eternal snow .Xre buried deep? Hlhere iee winds b vast. bleak emptiness ol whitt .Xeross the bleeding' tracks at night- Ihe t 1 low XVIICIK' ' ' z 4 ltmptd Intl ltll t btoktn deer-f lzternity. can it be here? I cannot lintl my way. the sn Io guide my lumbltng leet ts lar 'I'he glimpse ol' light has given me 'l'hat through l,iIe's dark and troubled dream There somewhere is a master scheme. The wond'rous pattern which must be 'I'he secret ol' Eternity. A Some day, somewhere, I shall lind 'I'he peatie to soothe my writhing mind. The treasures stored where moth or :lust Clan ne'er corrupt. eorrode, or rust: 'I'he open door: the guiding hand: My castle-built upon the sand? 'I'his world will soon Iorget my name. I have lllll earned the right to lame. 4 Nly true sell slept: I did not live. With mueh to do and much to give. I dreamt ol' that vague, distant time. 'I'he battle won. the prizes mine-- I'tl do and think. pursue and say 'Ihe things put oll from day to clay-- 'I'he ehanee would come and with no pain Nly soul would hntl ttsell Zlgillll. Some day. awakened. I must see 'I'he truth which is Reality- 'I'he answer. shining bright and clear. 'I'oo quick to leel. too short. too near. -llnlnnlul bl illlliiilmlgiIll-Milli lil will 'I'he answer, to the question lVhen? , lu I mm to md lm It ll Mil' Iiternitv. lor me. was 'I' H EN! Net. when my path by eanclle-light ' Is lost. a Still' rtlmw' the night PENNY XVA'l'l'S, '55 lf1'jly-et-gl: I
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Sixty Oak Blulls. the old camp-meeting ground: The Tabernacle, with its silver dome and sil- ver cross Outlined by lights that shine across the har- bor in the night, XfVith its encircling colony of gingerbread cot- tages, Each one a fantasy, an architectural night- mare, Quaint and clustered all together in a maze. One night in sunnner lt all is lighted by swaying, gay paper lan- terns, A lire halard perhaps, but a living, moving bit Ol' colorful past-the people gather and sing hymns. Oak Bluffs, the ocean side: XVhere the biggest houses stand looking out across the sea, Across the park, where bands give concerts on an odd Victorian stand, Where children play, and sail toy boats in a make-believe pond. Oak Blulfs, the harbor side: The town wharf that neatly segregates the classes- l'leasure Craft Only , and This End ol' Dock for Fishing Boats. The Ice-chopper clanks away, grinding tons of ice for a Fishermans holdg The delivery wagon brings a hundred pound cake for the ice-box Of the yacht tied up at the end ol' the pier. People walk endlessly up and down, inspect- ing each slip, And then hire bright little paddle-boats to cruise about the harbor. Oak Bluffs: camp-meeting ground, main drag, Town dock, and big houses lacing the sea- Oak Bluffs, a contrast . . . The road to Edgartown, a long. narrow strip Stretched out along the beach-one side, the ocean: The other, a still lagoon. At sunset The lagoon glows pink and lavender, and gray gulls NVheel in a red sky before settling down for night. The beach is almost deserted then, for eve- ning shadows are cool. At night, beneath the moon, the sea becomes A black silhouette. breaking white on the sands, And grasses on the dunes swish softly in the wind- he road is there to bridge the two eterni- ties . . . T Edgartown, where the lleet is in: the har- bor's hlled To overflowing with boats and masts and flagsg There is a big black schooner sporting a set of outsize signals, And the Bolero with sails lurled neatly in blue covers On silvery aluminum masts. There are white boats, Blue boats, black boats, green boats, power boats, sail boats- Large and small, hut everywhere boats, boats and brightly colored llags, Beneath a gay blue sky full ol' whipped cream clouds. South Beach. that long expanse of sand That faces towards Nantucket, and toward Spain. The waves are always big here. They come in l'oamy-crested. Curling over and rushing whitely, purring, up the beach. QYou there. with the binoculars, trying to sec Nantucket- l'ut them down and tome and I'ecl South Beach. Feel it shake as the waves crash in-lake oll' your shoes And leel the foaming waters carry the sands away, Feel them slip from beneath your toesg feel the water Swirl and pull about your ankles, coaxing you in deeper, Until a bigger wave can playfully soak your clothes.j Sometimes the sea is angry. and the waves come in like mountains Being blasted, the barriers of water crashing down With mighty roars and rumbles. covering the sands YVith their wreckage. QThen indeed can you l'eel the beach, lt quakes beneath you, and the blown spray from waves Comes up to meet you standing there atop the dunes. And forms a salty crust upon your skin: the wind X'Vreaks havoc with your hairj -You must feel South Beach. To know it, to love it .
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