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the rising bar to flout sleepy summer 

 winds. Why shall it not rejoice ? Out of 

 the eater hath come forth meat, and corn, 

 and wine, and oil of gladness ; out of the 

 strong sweetness indeed of love, of life, of 

 hopeful endeavor. What though the wild- 

 wood flowers be ghosts, the \vood-birds van- 

 ished, the Dryads fled yonder, in clear 

 sunshine, a garden lies abloom, a voice as 

 from heaven sings low a cradle-song. 



