Leaving Sunday morning
On a ten-day trip.
Ten hectic days of
Living from a grip.

For fun and recreation
I’m sure that we won’t lack.
Looking forward to the nicest
Rest–when I get back!

July 11, 1937



I sat on my porch this evening,
Weary and worn and old,
Tired of endless bright sunlight,
Longing for winter’s deep cold.

Oh, indolent summer evenings–
How welcome will be autumn’s zest,
With her golden days blue-shadowed
And her cool nights filled with rest!

August 22, 1937