Rebecca.
P. S. Please give the piece of poetry to John because he
likes my poetry even when it is not very good. This piece is
not very good but it is true but I hope you won't mind what
is in it as you ran away.
This house is dark and dull and dreer
No light doth shine from far or near
Its like the tomb.
And those of us who live herein
Are most as dead as serrafim
Though not as good.
My gardian angel is asleep
At leest he doth no vigil keep
Ah! woe is me!
Then give me back my lonely farm
Where none alive did wish me harm
Dear home of youth!
P. S. again. I made the poetry like a piece in a book but
could not get it right at first. You see "tomb" and "good" do
not sound well together but I wanted to say "tomb" dreadfully
and as serrafim are always "good" I couldn't take that out. I
have made it over now. It does not say my thoughts as well
but think it is more right. Give the best one to John as he
keeps them in a box with his birds' eggs. This is the best
one.