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 As demurely thro’ the Grass, Thro’ the Paddock, I pace and pass! Round me runs a murmur low, “Wherefore wilt thou further flow? Do not leave us, do not go!” Should I stay, then? Ah, no, no! On, still on! I know not whither, Only, that which brought me hither, Hither urged me on and on, Hence compels me to be gone. Forward! Under the further fence, (Turn a little, and twist about!) See through darkness a tunnel hence— Through the Paddock I pass—and out!

Janet—

The first full basket,—but they’re ripening fast. Wonderful, what a difference sunshine makes! You almost see, I’m sure you feel, things grow, This glorious weather. Now, you little creek, Will you please be my basin? (washing hands) ....this green grass My towel?....and this log my chair?....That’s good! Stooping is real hard work.—Don’t hurry, Hine!

Those blue-gums seem springing to catch the sky: The macrocarpa’s got a velvet heart, And in these crispy matipo-leaves, light curls. Oh, what a day! What sun! What blue and brightness!