<h2 id="id00096" style="margin-top: 4em">THE CALL</h2>
<p id="id00097">Across the dusty, foot-worn street<br/>
Unblessed of flower or tree,<br/>
Faint and far-off—there ever sounds<br/>
The calling of the sea.<br/></p>
<p id="id00098">From out the quiet of the hills,<br/>
Where purple shadows lie,<br/>
The pine trees murmur, "Come and rest<br/>
And let the world go by."<br/></p>
<p id="id00099">The west wind whispers all night long<br/>
"Oh, journey forth afar<br/>
To the green and pleasant places<br/>
Where little rivers are!"<br/></p>
<p id="id00100">And the soft and silken rustling<br/>
Of bending yellow wheat<br/>
Says, "See the harvest moon—that dims<br/>
The arc-lights of the street."<br/></p>
<p id="id00101">Though the city holds thee captive<br/>
By trick, and wile, and lure,<br/>
Out yonder lies the loveliness<br/>
Of things that shall endure.<br/></p>
<p id="id00102">The river road is wide and fair,<br/>
The prairie-path is free,<br/>
And still the old earth waits to give<br/>
Her strength and joy to thee.<br/></p>
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