And the tricking song of a big, blue fly;
—Merely a fancy, and yet, ah me,
How often I’ve wondered where she can be.
There they mellow and there they brown,
Homely objects to folks from town;
Only some apples hung to dry
And doomed to be finally tombed in a pie.
ONLY HELD HIS OWN
Now there’s Hezekiall Adams—nicest man you
ever saw!