
News Letter 
December, 1950 
Dear Friends: 
Here is the long-awaited poetry-letter. We'd 
ee to make this an annual or semi-annual af- 
air, so 
Be it doggerel or be it epic, 
(We don’t mind meter epileptic) 
Send it on, and by George, 
We'll all get a leorge cheorge. 
My Violets 
I love to sit here with my violets. 
They are African and such gay blues! 
There are whites and orchids and pastel pinks 
With delicate, lovely hues. 
They must have been sprinkled with star dust 
They have such a silvery sheen. 
And I feel so very contented, 
O, far more than if I were queen. 
Indeed, I am seldom more happy 
Than when I enjoy them here, 
For the Creator of all that is beautiful, 
He, too, seems so precious and near. 
—Gladys Nixon. 
African Violet 
African Violet is my name, 
I’ve come to live with you. 
And as I’m quite persnickity 
Pll tell you what to do. 
Don’t ever wash my hands and face, 
For water there won’t suit. 
I do my drinking with my feet 
So water at my root. 
Just set my pot into a pan 
Of water for an hour; 
For me, that way to take a drink 
Beats any summer shower. 
I like a soft light, but not sun, 
North windows suit me better. 
Copyright, December, 1950. by Russell Gray 
We ER <> FER >) CER RD < -EEID <BR (> GD > 4S) Ch C-SI (> Et > itis a 
