Transcribed Text

A child said what is the grass fetching it to me with full hands. I do not know what it is any more than he. I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green stuff woven.

Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord, a scented gift and remembrance designedly dropt bearing the owners name someway in the corners, that we may see and remark and say whose?