That butterfly in honoured dust
Assuredly will lie,
But none will pass his catacomb
So chastened as the fly.
One sent at Christmas with a beautifully iced cake was:
The Saviour must have been a docile Gentleman
To come so far, so cold a night
For little fellow men.
The road to Bethlehem—
Since He and I were boys—
Has levelled—but for that 'twould be
A rugged billion miles.
To Ned after being severely stung by a hornet:
Dear Ned—
You know I never did like you in those "yellow-jackets"!
To Gilbert, a child in kindergarten then, she sent this, accompanied with a dead bee:
The Bumble Bee's Religion
For Gib to carry to his teacher from Emily
His little hearse-like figure
Unto itself a dirge,
To a delusive lilac
The vanity divulge
Of industry and morals
And every righteous thing,
For the divine perdition
Of Idleness and Spring.
"All liars shall have their part." Jonathan Edwards.
"And let him that is athirst come." Jesus.
She furthered their childish love of mystery and innocent intrigue on every occasion, purloining for them any treat from the family supplies she could lay her fond hands upon.
