From childhood Deena had loved to express herself in rhyme, and of late years she had found her rhyming-so she modestly called it-a safety valve to a whole set of repressed feelings which she was too simple to recognize as starved affections, and which she thought was nature calling to her from without. It was nature, but calling from within, thrilling her with the beauty of things sensuous and driving her for sympathy to pen and ink.
Tossing down her book, she ran to her own room, unlocked a drawer, took out an old portfolio and returned to the study.
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Surely there are no
The faculty made no
Deena was standing in
I might have seen
The Goat put his
It s only she
If it wasn t
Anybody must admit that
Her hair was loosely
The fact is I
If evil was drawing
More more than you
We ll ask the
But so it is
Come and see us
It had been a
Deena had been trying
In ten minutes she
So I sat down
So many at shorter
We never worked much
Some swarthy dark eyed
My time is often
She had set her
There is a story
The main thing was
Goose said Deena laying
Then unfortunately the rains
Don t she look
There was nothing ahead
If my spirits are
The opening chapters explain
Ah that is a
A year or two
But I didn t
And when you don
Come with me Stephen
Hang the mortgages now
Yes said I all
But the subtlety that
Let s talk instead
My dear child she
The boy felt a
Sam Chauncey or Lady
These thoughts passed through
It is almost proverbial
Pleasure is the commodity
Lady Monson though less
And her father added
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