3

date: 1916-03-06

names-on-the-page: Patience, Mrs. Allen, Mr. Yost, Mr. Curran, Mrs. Curran, Mrs. Pollard

transcription: March 6, 1916 - Page 3

And set the hearts abeat o' hope
Aborn athin thy spilling.
Song o'me, spill, spill, spill!
Spill thee of love unto the vasts
Till like the echoes o' the wooded dells
The very sirs adance them
O' thy musics.
----------
Mrs. Allen asked for an inscription for her book.

Patience: "Lo, doth a one o' earth, who seeketh o' a love, take
but from him his love. Yea and there be them shere
athin thy day that do for to take them ever out their
loves that they lend unto the days. O' this be a builded
the songs o' day. Sobg to be aborn o' love. So do I to
set amusicked aneath these hands."

The folks left and Mr. Yost asked for a word before he
went.

Patience: "See I did to set me o' sweets that they do set astaste
for the more. There be the darked tide, eh? Set thee
arest, 'tis the dog that pulleth his tether that doth
to hang o' himself alater!
"Lor', he, the quill o' me, (Mr. Curran) hath swallowed
o' hots that burned like unto fires!
"And thee, Brother, (Mr. Yost) aseek that the scripts
do yield o' blooms for the stalk thou hast grown!
"And she ahere, (Mrs. Curran) ashaken and quiver o'er
the words o' earth!
"And she o' the hearth, (Mrs. Pollard) at shake and
quiver atoo!
"See, there be not o' a longish o' the teared tale ayet.
'Tis songed I put and yet o' tale;; what wouldst thee?"
We asked for a song and she gave this in the most comical
way dragging the alternate lines.
- Weary Setteth Me-
'Tis songed I'd be
But w-e-a-r-y a-s-e-t-t-e-t-h m-e.
'Tis at the doings o' day I'd be
But w-e-a-r-y a-s-e-t-t-e-t-h m-e.
'Tis at the doings o' castles rare
But w-e-a-r-y a-s-e-t-t-e-t-h m-e!
I'd harvest o' the grain that rusteth there
But w-e-a-r-y a-s-e-t-t-e-t-h m-e!
I'd finish o' this song, ye see,
But w - e - a - r - y s - e - t - t - e - t - h m - e!
(402)