. The Ladies' home journal. ys have shed their coats,All hands are in the white-lead painting boats. The cove is full of laughter and he-cries;The small boy has two white and staring eyesOn the blind side of his breeches where he restedOn the plank where brushes have been tested. Father has twin smooches on his chin,He lays the good paint on, draws it out thin,He caresses with wide arms and thighsThe curving wood, and love lights up his eyes. By Hubert P. Tristram Coffin The son upon the port side keeps the paceWith his father, sweeping the hard laceOf lap-streaked pine, his round brush is ali
. The Ladies' home journal. ys have shed their coats,All hands are in the white-lead painting boats. The cove is full of laughter and he-cries;The small boy has two white and staring eyesOn the blind side of his breeches where he restedOn the plank where brushes have been tested. Father has twin smooches on his chin,He lays the good paint on, draws it out thin,He caresses with wide arms and thighsThe curving wood, and love lights up his eyes. By Hubert P. Tristram Coffin The son upon the port side keeps the paceWith his father, sweeping the hard laceOf lap-streaked pine, his round brush is alightWith lightning and the sharply smelling white. They have the baby where he can upsetThe paint pail, he is underneath the net;To his fellow men he waves and crowsCrisscrossed with meshes on his cheeks and nose. Mother can keep her biscuits on the stove;There is a love affair down at the cove,Women and food for once will have to wait,Tonight the supper will be good and late. LADIES HOME JOURNAL \|.ril. 1918 -/mttfvk 1-2-3!.
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1880, bookidladieshomejourna65janwyet
