Might choose to build in. . . .
The walls were green, the carpet was pure green,
The straight small bed was curtained greenly,
And the folds hung green about the window,
Which let in the out-door world with all its greenery.
You could not push your head out and escape
A dash of dawn-dew from the honeysuckle.”
Poor Aurora lost her mother when she was four years old, and her dear, dear father when she was just a little girl. Then she sailed across the ocean from her home in Italy to her father’s old home in England. When she first saw English soil, this is the way she felt:
. . . “oh, the frosty cliffs looked cold upon me!
Could I find a home among those mean red houses,