Poetry – Page 282

shuttles locke’d & battens door’d ( O both ) & teas’d the cats, ‘ & that’s a stoat ‘

auk auk moreover by the stover, her bows her mirror in a box, she stows the rose-red river home

where’s a worth for scotch ( I brood ), alas, ( I think ) at kitchen sink, she looks ( at all ) the idle while pullin’ back her hair, the pail o’er, ‘ ston’silltwill ( ) a ladder’ & ( she did ) to the bower

ant i – m @ tea at ten she tenses ante esce nt how can it be you’re cann ing bees

c nn i e an m why scare me ‘tho it’s only coal it’s awful cold who said that once may saith twice