"TWO
fairies it was On a still autumn day
Came forth in the woods With the flowers
to play,
The flowers they plucked They cast on the ground
For others, and
those For still others they found.
Flower-guided it was That they came as
they ran
On something that lay In the shape of a man.
The snow must have
made The feathery bed
When this one fell On the sleep of the dead.
But the
snow was gone A long time ago
And the body he wore Nigh gone with the
snow.
When you came on death, Did you not come flower-guided
Like the
elves in the wood? I remember that I did.
But I recognised death With sorrow
and dread,
And I hated and hate The spoils of the dead."
"Spoils of the
Dead" by Robert Frost
I inherited the farm and leased the cornfield out
to tenants. I live in the house alone; I never married. I see Molly fairly
often. She and LeRoy live in a fine house in Omaha with their two girls. LeRoy
is the vice-president of Peoples Bank of Omaha.
Ma and Pa are dead now.
Grandma died last year. But a confession was made when we were together one day
before she died. "Little Bee, your Grandpa is dead, so I can tell you this now.
Your Grandfather shot Mr. O'Hare." "Grandpa!" I shouted. "This will be our
secret now. We knew how much everyone loved Molly and couldn't bear to lose her,
and we were concerned for Molly's future. Your Grandfather followed Mr. O'Hare
and saw him drinking at the bar in Blair. We lied to the sheriff; we said we
were both at home all night. It was an "innocent" lie. Your Grandfather made it
look like a robbery. We put the money in the offering basket. Please forgive us,
Little Bee. We asked the LORD Jesus to forgive us." "But Grandma, it was wrong!
it was wrong!"
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