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Sunday 25 March '51

Dear Theresa

Preceding my visit to the Whitney Museum today I wrote the following poem which was inspired by an early morning walk to work about a week ago. Verses have been sifting through my head & only this morning did I take my pen in hand to write this memorial to a dead mouse.

Poor Little Mouse

Poor smudged, ruffled, lifeless little mouse,
Lying unconcerted along the sunlit cobblestone's of W. 12th,
I wept - abandoned, thusly, into an open public grave,
Near the curbed black wheels of an emerald green jalopy,
Untroubled by nearby heel clicking or vehicular jazz,
Nor disturbed by the street's rhythmical lyricism or the wind's nipping.
Unwanted, furry, greyish-brown creature - how quiet you are, how still,
Without a singular flower to mark your status, you rigidly remain,
waiting for those noble unshaven pall bearers to arrive
Goodbye poor little mousie, the g. collectors are rumbling this way & I must go to work

by Esther Rolick
PTO ->