—Thass a funny title, Mr Bones. br —When down she saw her feet, sweet fish, on the threshold, br she considered her fair shoulders br and all them hundreds who have them, all br the more who to her mime thickened & maled br from the supple stage, br br and seeing her feet, in a visit, side by side br paused on the sill of The Tomb, she shrank: 'No. br They are not worthy, br fondled by many' and rushed from The Crucified br back through her followers out of the city ho br across the suburbs, plucky br br to dare my desert in her late daylight br of animals and sands. She fall prone. br Only wind whistled. br And forty-seven years with our caps on, br whom God has not visited.