The Black Swans 



greenery will lead you through the 

 hedge-row to the door. Those burr- 

 oak trees that overhang the eaves and 

 guard on either side the entrance-way, 

 God planted many years ago and 

 waited. Sooner or later some one was 

 certain to look at them and compre- 

 hend. And when we found them first 

 I knew at once a mile-stone in a jour- 

 ney had been set. And so one day 

 there came into the world our Dumbie- 

 dykes. 



Just a little temple in a grove! 

 Just a little shrine at which the deities 

 that rule the out-of-doors are wor- 

 shipped. Just a little place to call a 

 country home! Just a little port of 

 friendly call for those who have it on 

 their chart! And is that not enough? 



No acres broad extending far afield. 

 No great red barns nor cattle-yards 

 nor granaries; no silos, plows nor 

 harvesters; no retinue of help nor 

 tenant cottages ! Why should we covet 

 these? For on the outside have we 

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