I Don't Want To Go

For Several Days After My First Book Was Published, I Carried It About In My Pocket And Took Surreptitious Peeps At It To Make Sure The Ink Had Not Faded.

Our Heroine Knew That The Mother Would Always Leave The Window Open For Her Children To Fly Back By; So They Stayed Away For Years And Had A Lovely Time.

Some Of My Plays Peter Out And Some Pan Out.

If I Were Younger, I'd Know More.

Oh, You Mysterious Girls, When You Are Fifty-two We Shall Find You Out; You Must Come Into The Open Then. If The Mouth Has Fallen Sourly Yours The Blame: All The Meanness Your Youth Concealed Have Been Gathering In Your Face. But The Pretty Thoughts And Sweet Ways And Dear, Forgotten Kindnesses Linger There Also, To Bloom In Your Twilight Like Evening Primroses.