LEAFING 



87 



and a big pile of leaves to dive so deep into that he 

 cannot see his pen. I can feel the joy of it myself. 

 No, I do not live in a pen ; but then, I might, if once 

 in a while I did not go leafing, did not escape now 

 j and then from my little daily round into the wide, 

 wild woods my ancestral home. 



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