GOOD FRIDAY IN THE COUNTRY. / ? / In the country Are many Old, weathered, / Very old Buildings near collapse. Will their tilted frames Slip silently, Like a Dancer, Spreading, ‘Til one dead-of-night They gracefully Meet the ground In a surrendered heap? Yes! But one | saw, | know, Will crash on a hot, still noon. So many blossoming trees! One is a pewter candelabra With ten thousand And one White tapers. Look! A fat little girl In her first Party dress Is that Frilied- Christmas tree. —R.W.N.