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.