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51 AnnA hempsteAD Br AnCh First Letter I have a beautiful home on the slope of a green, green hillside. Sometimes it shines so bright, it seems like silver to me. There are roses, lovely and tall, and the song birds sing all around it. And there is a view below that looks off over the sea. Yes, we have things to eat, but they are not such as you have— Bacon and pancakes and pudding, coffee and sausage and pie— But a bread that comforts the soul sweeter than apples or honey; Fresher than lilies or roses is the food we are nourished by. Richard is here and he goes off to the College each day With glorious books. He is happy and friendly and has funny things to say, And buoyant and gay in his looks. If you could only see me now in my beautiful golden chamber, Free to come and to go, Free and happy and well—free—unutterably free. I wish you could see the flowers and hear the birds we have here. Silence . . . Sometimes I am with people; Sometimes I have things to do . . . infinite leisure. Sometimes music is here and color and shape and happy talk . . . Water . . . but not with a rush and a roar. But it seemed a quiet pool filled with exquisite lilies. Only have courage and know there is nothing to fear. When I went that night my manner of going seemed easy. I sat up in my bed and put my feet on the floor. Then I went out and away but not through the door nor the window. I went by a secret path, a narrow invisible door. ...

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