THE THRAM
The golden sunshine filled the room,
To every corner stealing;
It glanced on Charlotte's silver hair,
And flashed along the ceiling.
It touched the dingy walls with gold,
And painted all the china;
The "rosy basins" on the shelf
Grew rosier and finer.
The window high above the road
Looked over field and meadow,
To where the sun, fast rolling down,
Left Scacafell in shadow.
And Charlotte placidly enjoyed,
But gazed without emotion;
Something was lacking, I could see,
But what, I had no notion.
"The windhar on the stairs," she said,
And now she showed elation;
"There's where the thram is, an' the lights,
An' all the 'Lectric Station!"
"An' all the folks as plain as plain,
That's comin' in or goin'—
That's what I like," she said, "the thram
An' all the lights a-glowin'!"
