To Pfrimmer
(Lines on reading “Driftwood.”)
Driftwood gathered here and thereAlong the beach of time;Now and then a chip of truth‘Mid boards and boughs of rhyme;Driftwood gathered day by day,—The cypress and the oak,—Twigs that in some former timeFrom sturdy home trees broke.Did this wood come floating thickAll along down “Injin Crik?”Or did kind tides bring it theeFrom the past’s receding seaDown the stream of memory?