Page:Al Que Quiere.djvu/39

 LOVE SONG

Sweep the house clean, hang fresh curtains in the windows put on a new dress and come with me! The elm is scattering its little loaves of sweet smells from a white sky!

Who shall hear of us in the time to come? Let him say there was a burst of fragrance from black branches. 

FOREIGN

Artsybashev is a Russian. I am an American. Let us wonder, my townspeople, if Artsybashev tends his own fires as I do, gets himself cursed for the baby's failure to thrive, loosens windows for the woman who cleans his parlor— or has he neat servants 