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names-on-the-page: Patience; Mrs. C.

transcription: Patience: "A prosy spinster may but plash in
Love's pool."

Mrs. C: "She always has a clever answer."

Patience: "Knowest thou 'tis eventide and thou art
trifling with thy humble servant's wits?"

Mr. B: "Are we supposed to be brighter in the evening?"

Patience: "May, candle light should shoo the
chickens to roost."

Mrs. C: "We ought to be asleep instead of crossing
wits with her. Give us some more."

Patience: "Thee hat a gnawing void."

Mrs. C: "In what way? I don't see that."

Patience: "Didst ever see a void?"

(Then the following poem came.)

--Where Should I Sing?--

"Can I then hope to to toar from out my
heart the song 'twould tell to thee?
Were I to sing unto the woodland, 'twould
be thy song. Or should I pipe of happy days
when thou wert absent in my life, thou'dst
creep within the singing and every note be
thine."

"Or should I make a song unto my saddest
season, thou still wouldst sing, e'en
through my sorrowing. Thou who wert not the
essence of my song's wine has blossomed long
before, within the very grape, and ripened
with my seasons' heat and cold. Who then
denies that from my first voiced crooning, thou
hast been the vibrant chord?"
---------
"Waft ye through the world sunlight.
Throw ye to the sparrows grain that
runneth o'er the full measure! Scatter
flower petals like the wings of fluttering
butterflies, to streak the dove-gray day
with daisy gold and turn the silver mist
to fleece of gold.

"Hath the king a noble who is such a
wonderworker, or hath his jester such
a pack of tricks as thine?"

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