“Ah,” said the sister of Elbert, soothingly,
“Our soaring lark here bathes in each bright pool.
So be not frighten’d off; her plumes but shake
A sprinkling from the bath they had to-day.”
“Some please the world,” said Edith; “I, myself,—
My soul, I mean; nor long to clip that soul
To suit mere worldling’s notions. Courting crowds,
A soul lives crampt; but if one speak the truth,
Crowds leave—good riddance!—place is clear’d for friends.”
“Clear’d verily!” her sister cried, “Long live
These household pet-gods of our modern homes,
Like sprites to fright the stranger off! Now own
The fear you felt. It would appease her so!”