This Elenor Murray Was ten years old I think, this law suit ended Twelve years or so, and I was running down, Was tippling just a little every day; And I came by this lot one afternoon When school was out, a sunny afternoon. The children had no place except the street To play in; they were standing by the fence, The cow was way across the lot, and Elenor Was looking through the fence, some boys and girls Standing around her, and I said to them: "Why don't you climb the fence and play in there?" And Elenor--she always was a leader, And not afraid of anything, said: "Come on," And in a jiffy climbed the fence, the children, Some quicker and some slower, followed her. Some said "They don't allow it." Elenor Stood on the fence, flung up her arms and crowed, And said "What can they do? He says to do it," Pointing at me. And in a moment all of them Were playing and were shouting in the lot. And I stood there and watched them half malicious, And half in pleasure watching them at play. Then I heard "hey!" the care-taker ran out. And said "Get out of there, I will arrest you." He drove them out and as they jumped the fence Some said, "He told us to," pointing at me. And Elenor Murray said "Why, what a lie!" And then the care-taker grabbed Elenor Murray And said, "You are the wildest of them all." I spoke up, saying, "Leave that child alone. I won this God damn land for those you serve, They use it for a cow and nothing else, And let these children run about the streets, When there are grass and dandelions there In plenty for these children, and the cow, And space enough to play in without bothering That solitary cow." I took his hands Away from Elenor Murray; he and I Came face to face with clenched fists--but at last He walked away; the children scampered off. Next day, however, they arrested me For aiding in a _trespass clausam fregit_, And fined me twenty dollars and the costs. Since then the cow has all her way in there. And Elenor Murray left this rotten place, Went to the war, came home and died, and proved She had the sense to leave so vile a world. * * * * * George Joslin ending up his days with dreams Of youth in Europe, travels, and with talk, Stirred to a recollection of a face He saw in Paris fifty years before, Because the face resembled Elenor Murray's, Explored his drawers and boxes, where he kept Mementos, treasures of the olden days. And found a pamphlet, came to Merival, With certain recollections, and with theories Of Elenor Murray:-- GEORGE JOSLIN ON LA MENKEN Here, Coroner Merival, look at this picture! Whom does it look like? Eyes too crystalline, A head like Byron's, tender mouth, and neck, Slender and white, a pathos as of smiles And tears kept back by courage. Yes, you know It looks like Elenor Murray.