Of A Great White Bird Upon A Lake
Spring Was Stealing Lightly Over The Connecticut Hills, A Shy, Tender
Thing Of Delicate Green Winging Its Way With Witch-Rod Over The Wooded
Ridges And The Sylvan Paths Of Diane Westfall'S Farm. And With The
Spring Had Come A Great Hammering By The Sheepfold And The Stables
Where A Smiling Horde Of Metropolitan Workmen, Sheltered By Night In
The Rambling Old Farmhouse, Built An Ingenious House Upon Wheels And
Flirted With The House-Maids.
Spring Was Stealing Lightly Over The Connecticut Hills, A Shy, Tender
Thing Of Delicate Green Winging Its Way With Witch-Rod Over The Wooded
Ridges And The Sylvan Paths Of Diane Westfall'S Farm. And With The
Spring Had Come A Great Hammering By The Sheepfold And The Stables
Where A Smiling Horde Of Metropolitan Workmen, Sheltered By Night In
The Rambling Old Farmhouse, Built An Ingenious House Upon Wheels And
Flirted With The House-Maids.
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