And, answering this desire,
The flutist opened, in a rapturous strain
Of rippling notes--a perfect April-rain
Of melody that drenched the senses through;--
Then--gentler--gentler--as the dusk sheds dew,
It fell, by velvety, staccatoed halts,
Swooning away in old "Von Weber's Waltz."
Then the young ladies sang "Isle of the Sea"--
In ebb and flow and wave so billowy,--
Only with quavering breath and folded eyes
The listeners heard, buoyed on the fall and rise
Of its insistent and exceeding stress
Of sweetness and ecstatic tenderness ...
With lifted finger _yet_, Remembrance--List!--
"_Beautiful isle of the sea!_" wells in a mist
Of tremulous ...

... After much whispering
Among the children, Alex came to bring
Some kind of _letter_--as it seemed to be--
To Cousin Rufus. This he carelessly
Unfolded--reading to himself alone,--
But, since its contents became, later, known,
And no one "_plagued_ so _awful_ bad," the same
May here be given--of course without full name,
Fac-simile, or written kink or curl
Or clue. It read:--

"Wild Roved an indian Girl
Brite al Floretty"