Hah To You Harraseeket Inn

Correspondence received today.

From: Susan V. Sinclair

August 5, 2010 at 1:20am

Re: Virginia C. Boswell

Yes, that is the exact poem. And I have proof that she wrote it. Mom wrote poetry for the Leanin' Tree card company for a number of years, and they published a card with this poem, crediting her as the author. I still have one of those cards. So if you wish, I could corroborate this directly with the Harraseetket Inn on your behalf.

Now I'm curious--how did you know of this poem and know that my mother was the author?

Susan

And now I have to find out what happened to the Thomas Moser/Robert Newton clock in the lobby.

Re. Did She Or Didn't She (7/21)

Received this email this morning:

Susan V. Sinclair
August 3, 2010 at 2:23am

Re: Virginia C. Boswell
Hi, Jane--Yes, I am her daughter; sadly, she passed away a year ago on July 31. If you mean the poem that ends with, "...and treasures hide in sand," yes, that is her work. Let me know--I'd be happy to hear if this is the right poem!

She did.

"Come walk with me along the sea where dusk sits on the land, and search with me for shells are free and treasures hide in sand."

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Just how careless do you have to be to let your borogroves get all mimsey?

Did She Or Didn't She?

"Come walk with me along the sea where dusk sits on the land, and search with me for shells are free and treasures hide in sand." ~ V. Boswell

Do You Like Daffodils? Who Doesn't?

Daffodils
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed--and gazed--but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

William Wordsworth