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80 Tuesday, March, 20, 128 The Kitchen The kitchen is a wondrous place to be- Chock full of beauty its own special way, The way of quiet and utility, Of making us pretentious to array Itself in any glamorous effect. For on the floor in squares of blue and white Linoleum is laid; the oil-clothe's checked In blue and white on tables too; big, bright, Brass faucets stand above the sink most bold And eager to be turned; white paper's spread Smoothly on level shelves that hold The blue tin boxes lettered CAKE and BREAD, And little round ones marked with SALT and TEA; Behind the cupboard doors in one straight line Gay colored boxes stand obediently; On hooks the silvered pots and kettles shine; The stone seems always to be wearing frowns, Perhaps because it's dull while all else gleams; There is the smell of cooking coffee grounds And damp of oil-cloth newly wet; there steams A pot of something for the mid-day meal; Oval and oblong bread-boards stand; and neat White piles of cups and plates. The kitchen's real Honest, serene, and in its usefulness complete. 81 Wednesday, March 21, 1928 The Moon Rises (?] Saturday night, June 14th, at Buskard's, South Lee, Mass. The sky, that hinted blue instead of black, Was sprinkled with a thousand stars. The trees and fields and bushes seemed to lack Detail and stood in perfect silhuette, And made, with all the mountains round, a frieze. There was an almost tranquil calm, and yet One heard the mystic noises of the night, The cricket's call, the frog's. Bourne with the breeze The fire-flies gave swarms of silent light. And then, behind the mountain's ridge of green, Dark, unreal night-green of the straight still trees The moon came up, slowly, slowly calmly serene; And there was perfect peace in its dignity. It was a night of beauty and of fantasy.