THE CATTLE OF A HUNDRED FARMS.
And now, beset with many ills,
A toilsome life I follow;
Compelled to carry from the hills,
These logs to the impatient mills,
Below there in the hollow.
Yet something ever cheers and charms
The rudeness of my labors;
Daily I water with these arms
The cattle of a hundred farms,
And have the birds for neighbors.
H. W. Longfellow: Mad River.
CAT-QUESTIONS.
Dozing, and dozing, and dozing!
Pleasant enough,
Dreaming of sweet cream and mouse-meat,—
Delicate stuff!