It's all for his good, they say; for in heaven no nicotine grows,
And the angels need no cedar for moth-proofs to keep their clothes;
No ashes are dropped, no carpets are singed, by all the saintly crew;
If this is heaven, and he gets there,
is a poor fellow to do?
He'll sit on the golden benches and long for a chance to break jail,
With a shooting-star for a motor, or a flight on a comet's tail;
He'll see the smoke rise in the distance, and goaded by memory's spell,
He'll go back on the women who saved him,
And ask for a ticket to Hell!
An exact description of the usual happenings at "Breezy" in the beginning, by my only sister, Mrs. Babcock, who was devoted to me and did more than anyone to help to develop the Farm. I feel that this chapter must be the richer for two of her poems.
LIGHT AND SHADE AT "BREEZY MEADOWS" FARM
This charming May morning we'll walk to the grove!
And give the dear dogs all a run;
Over the meadows 'tis pleasant to rove
And bask in the light of the sun.
Last night a sly fox took off our best duck!
Run for a gun! there a hen hawk flies!
We always have the very worst of luck,
The anxious mistress of the chickens cries.
We stop to smell the lilacs at the gate,
And watch the bluebirds in the elm-tree's crest—
The finest farm it is in all the state,
Which corner of it do you like the best?
Just think! a rat has eaten ducklings two,
Now isn't that a shame! pray set a trap!
The downiest, dearest ones that ever grew,
I think this trouble will climax cap!
At "Sun Flower Rock," in joy we stand to gaze;
The distant orchard, flowering, show so fair:
Surely my dear, abandoned farming pays,
How heavenly the early morning air!
Now only see! those horrid hens are scratching!
They tear the Mountain Fringe so lately set!
Some kind of mischief they are always hatching,
Why did I ever try a hen to pet?