Drive down Main for three quarters of a mile, then make a sharp right turn onto Pine.

That sometimes from the savage den, And sometimes from the darksome shade, And sometimes staring up at once In green and sunny glade.

At the time I was enveloped—emparadised let me call it rather, in this blissful solitude, I felt that it was a time more detached from the dross of the world […]

Nipt with the lagging rear of winters froſt.