Well, you see, the fact is, Colonel, I don't know as I can come: For the farm is not half planted, and there's work to do at home; And my leg is getting troublesome, it laid me up last fall,...
An empty bench, a sky of grayest etching, A bare, bleak shed in blackest silhouette, Twelve years of platform, and before them stretching Twelve miles of prairie glimmering through the wet. ...
Our window's not much, though it fronts on the street; There's a fly in the pane that gets nothin' to eat; But it's curious how people think it's a treat For me to look out of the window! ...