went to the barn chamber I made a poem.

IMPATIENCE

We dug our rose cakes up oh! all too soon.
Twas in the orchard just at noon.
Twas in a bright July forenoon.
Twas in the sunny afternoon.
Twas underneath the harvest moon.

It was not that way at all; it was a foggy morning before school,
and I should think poets could never possibly get to heaven, for
it is so hard to stick to the truth when you are writing poetry.
Emma Jane thinks it is nobody's business when we dug the
rosecakes up. I like the line about the harvest moon best, but it
would give a wrong idea of our lives and characters to the people
that read my Thoughts, for they would think we were up late
nights, so I have fixed it like this:

IMPATIENCE

We dug our rose cakes up oh! all too soon,
We thought their sweetness would be such a boon.
We ne'er suspicioned they would not be done
After three days of autumn wind and sun.
Why did we from the earth our treasures draw?
Twas not for fear that rat or mole might naw,
An aged aunt doth say impatience was the reason,
She says that youth is ever out of season.