Idly plucked on a luxuriant but now long-lost summer's day
in the midst of the nineteenth century, these leaves of grass,
with their multifarious meanings and similtudes, made a musing
poet think of opening his barbaric yawp. Long pressed
between the leaves of a copy of the resulting volume of
poetry, these fragile remnants may serve to remind us of the
the enduringly ephemeral nature of things. Provenance:
Paumanok Historical Society
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