40 
DEE AUDUBON WB Di 
Poems by Eleanor Bogan 
ADVENTURE 
It may be I shall never pass 
Down some queer, vivid foreign street 
Nor hear the temple bells of beaten brass 
Above the heavy tread of many feet 
Yet shall I be content with only this: 
With every gentle, soft returning spring 
Down crooked lanes where tiny leaves unfold 
To go adventuring. 
It may be I shall never see 
A Chinese junk with purple sail 
Drifting upon a quiet, greenish sea, 
Drifting beneath a sunset, cold and pale 
Yet shall I be content with only this: 
To feel a little child clasping my hand; 
To go adventuring in that child’s heart 
Some day, to understand. 
A BREEZE 
Do you know that a breeze 
Is air in a hurry 
To get to some place in town? 
It pushes and puffs 
And all in a flurry 
Arrives—then, doesn’t sit 
down. 
THE HOT SUN 
Some day when you think the sun 
is too hot, 
Or you’re cross at a saucy breeze, 
Just think what a queer old world 
*twould be 
If we didn’t have both of them, 
please. 
