/ID^ Mtntet GarC)en 



birds on either side of us, and at night, 

 high above us, the wild geese honk assur- 

 ingly, heading for the Tippecanoe and the 

 Kankakee. In Alabama we see the foot- 

 hills of Sand Mountain blotched pink and 

 blue with flowers not known to the low- 

 landers. Farmers are planting corn in 

 Tennessee. We rush across Kentucky by 

 night, and when the sunshine again falls 

 into our swaying berth we look out upon 

 apple-orchards fair with bloom reeling 

 past us as if hurrying into the vast dream- 

 country from which we are so joyously 

 taking our farewell flight. And far be- 

 hind us we hear a soft, melodious stroke, 

 the gate of my Winter Garden closing to 

 shut in our abandoned dreams. 



33 



