Do anything but squabble for a place,
Or push or shove or scrouge, or breathe out loud,
Or chew wet, or knead taffy in my beard!—
Do anything almost—act anyway,—
Only keep still, so I can hear myself
Trying to tell you "just one story more!"
One winter afternoon my father, with
A whistle to our dog, a shout to us—
His two boys—six and eight years old we were,—
Started off to the woods, a half a mile