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Flat Bush, Saturday, 10 o’c[lock]., August 10th, [17]’81
My dear Abby: [ . . . ]
[ . . . ] By the by, few N.York ladies know how to entertain company in their own houses unless they introduce the card…
The cartwheels rush,
quivering.
What is their burden?
Shoes, shivering.
The cart is like
a great hall:
the shoes crushed together
as though at a ball.
A wedding? A party?
Have I gone blind?
Who…
If we should lack nothing else than veils, it would be all right.
May peace and healthy days be your lot always; to you, my much beloved daughter, may you live long, you who are pious and virtuous…