i like to visit endie’s house

she’s like a dream herself,

she has the books i know and love

upon her reading shelf.

and when i go to her we talk

about the clouds and wind,

and if i drop from clouds to clods

why; endie doesn’t mind.

i like the streams, the singing ones,

but endie likes a fall;

and if i disagee with her

she doesn’t mind at all.

endie has a thousand things

to plant in one small space;

when i find it can’t be done

regret is in her face.

she often says o! dare we plant,

narcissus in a row?

but she agrees and i agree

where hollyhocks should grow.

i only need to mention tea

and endie’s soft eyes shine.{51}

and then she talks; her language flows

more eloquent than mine.

once ambition burned my breast

endie, too, was fired.

but here is where i stop to rest

for endie’s getting tired.