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[183] Unheeded let the newsboy call,
     Aside the ledger lay:
The world will keep its treadmill step
     Though we fall out to-day.

The truants of life's weary school,
     Without excuse from thrift
We change for once the gains of toil
     For God's unpurchased gift.

From ceiled rooms, from silent books,
     From crowded car and town,
Dear Mother Earth, upon thy lap,
     We lay our tired heads down.

Cool, summer wind, our heated brows;
     Blue river, through the green
Of clustering pines, refresh the eyes
     Which all too much have seen.

For us these pleasant woodland ways
     Are thronged with memories old,
Have felt the grasp of friendly hands
     And heard love's story told.

A sacred presence overbroods
     The earth whereon we meet;
These winding forest-paths are trod
     By more than mortal feet.

Old friends called from us by the voice
     Which they alone could hear,
From mystery to mystery,
     From life to life, draw near.

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