You drift from sight.—In flush of dawn
Sail on, and ’neath the evening star’—
Trash—trash—and yet there’s a picture in it—
‘Lap softly, purple waves. I dream,
And dreams are sweet—I’ll wake no more’—
Ah, but you’ll have to wake if you want to accomplish anything. Girl, you’ve used purple twice in the same poem.
‘Buttercups in a golden frenzy’—
‘a golden frenzy’—girl, I see the wind shaking the buttercups.
‘From the purple gates of the west I come’—
You’re too fond of purple, Emily.”