valley a small brook crossed the road and ran into a pure apple green and from the inveterate propensity of their husbands to linger about the eaves an rows of pigeons some with one eye turned up as if on the frosty crust beneath his feet and dread to look exceedingly knowing whenever the story of the steed had given his unskilful rider an apparent advantage in the afternoon to stretch himself on the top of a cavalier he borrowed a horse from the first dutch settlers the low murmur of his mouth and he was even the companion and playmate of the river giving greater depth to the valley but extend at times to the farmhouse where he happened to have pretty sisters or good housewives of the devil and all his amorous toyings were something like the gentle caresses and endearments ofa bear yet it was the umpire in all this while snugly cuddling in the pride and gladness of his head and that may be captured in a flash of fire (C) 2026 Shane Cooper follow links in the poem, or start new path...