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Poem	That dark brown rabbit, lightness in his ears & underneath, gladdened our afternoon munching a crab-'. That rabbit was a fraud, like a black bull prudent I admired in Zaragoza, who certainly was brave as a demon but would not charge, being willing not to die. The rabbit's case, a little different, consisted in alert & wily looks down the lawn, where nobody was, with prickt ears, while rapt but chatting on the porch we sat in view nearby. Then went he mildly by, and around behind my cabin, and when I followed, there he just sat. Only at last he turned down around, passing my wife at four feet and hopped the whole lawn and made thro' the hedge for the big house. -”Mr Bones, we all brutes & fools.
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