THE CALL OF THE WILD 



When, like grimy dragons crawling, comes the city's 

 darkness falling 



Do you feel the trails a-calling, do you hearken to 

 a voice that brings a dream? 



Do you hear the pine-trees sighing when the south- 

 east winds are dying 



And the cratered lakes are lying in their turquoise- 

 painted bowls of silver cream? 



As the last mill's flame is leaping o'er a million 

 toilers sleeping, 



Have you felt the lure a-creeping like a long for- 

 gotten scrap of youthful sin? 



Do you yearn for hikes and sallies into balsam 

 scented valleys, 



Through the virgin wildwood alleys, where the rod 

 and reel and gun have never been? 



Just to meet God's open spaces and the cozy hidden 



places 

 Where the flashing trout-stream races and you never 



need to make a second cast. 

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