Then It Was Dust In Illinois

A Small Boy

After An Afternoon Of Carting

Dung Hung

On A Rail Fence

A Sapped Thing

Weary To Cry



Dark Was Growing Tall

He Began To Hear The Pond Frogs

All Calling On His Ear

They Were Calling On His Ear

With What Seemed Their Joy



Soon The Sound Was Pleasent For A Boy

Listening In The Smoky Dusk And The Nightfall Of Illinois

And From The Fields

Two Small Boys Came

Bearing Cornstalk Violins

So They Rubbed Their Cornstalk Bows With Resins

And The Three Just Sat There

Scraping Of The Joy, Of The Joy

They're Scraping Of The Joy



It Was Now Fine Music

The Frogs And Thre Boys Did

In The Towering Illinois Twilight

Make And Into Dark

In Spite Of A Shoulders Ache

A Boys Hunched Body

Loved Out Of Stalk

The First Song Of His Happiness

And The Song Woke His Heart

Into The Darkness And Saddness

And Joy