My grandmother was a genius. You'd like to know why?
Because she could climb trees. Spreading or high,
She'd be up their branches in a trice. And mind you,
When last she climbed a tree, she was sixty-two.
Ever since childhood, she'd had this gift
For being happier in a tree than in a lift;
And though, as years went by, she would be told
That climbing trees should stop when one grew old
And that growing old should
And that growing old should be gone about gracefully,
She'd laugh and say, 'Well, I'll grow old disgracefully.
I can do it better.' And we had to agree;
For in all the garden there wasn't a tree
She hadn't been up, at one time or another
(Having learned to climb from a loving brother
When she was six) but it was feared by all
That one day she'd have a terrible fall.
The outcome was different while we were in town
She climbed a tree and couldn't come down!
We went to the rescue, and then the doctor took
Granny's temperature and said,
'I strongly recommend a quiet week in bed.
We sighed with relief and tucked her up well.
Poor Granny! For her, it was like a brief season in hell,
Confined to her bedroom, while every breeze
Whispered of summer and dancing leaves.
But she held her peace till she felt stronger,
Then sat up and said, 'I'll lie here no longer!'
And she called for my father and told him undaunted
That a house in a tree-top was what she now wanted.
My Dad knew his duties. He said, That's all right-
You'll have what you want, dear. I'll start work
tonight.'
With my expert assistance, he soon finished the chore:
Made her a tree-house with windows and a door.
See the story and give the answer of my question
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d: she told she would be dis graceful about it
e: she was 62 years old
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