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PROMENADE
I.
Well, mind, here we have
our little son beside us:
a little diversion before breakfast!
Come, we'll walk down the road
till the bacon will be frying.
We might better be idle?
A poem might come of it?
Oh, be useful. Save annoyance
to Flossie and besides—the wind!
It's cold. It blows our
old pants out! It makes us shiver!
See the heavy trees
shifting their weight before it.
Let us be trees, an old house,
a hill with grass on it !
The baby's arms are blue.
Come, move! Be quieted!
II.
So. We'll sit here now
and throw pebbles into
this water-trickle.
Splash the water up!
(Splash it up, Sonny!) Laugh!
Hit it there deep under the grass.
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