Childhood is the bough where slumbered
Birds and blossoms many-numbered;
Age, that bough with snows encumbered.
Gather, then, each flower that grows
When the young heart overflows,
To embalm that tent of snows.
This is taken from Through the Year with Longfellow. Years ago, my grandfather gave me a copy of the antique book. The inside inscription reads, in perfect cursive, “Miss Annie L Adams” and it was given to her from a man named Dexter.
Anna’s new swing, a birthday present from her grandparents.