"I—I—didn't come for that," the apathy in her voice holding it steady. "I—I am his wife. His last letter—he sent for me." A sob broke her speech. "It came last week—two months too late."
What the Iowa Boy Hears in the Wind in the Corn
My Baby's Horse
My baby's horse is Daddy's knee;
When nighttime comes he rides away
To Sleepytown by Dreamland Sea;
I love to hear their laughter gay.