8 THE FALL OF THE YEAR 



earth this July day. Already the sun has passed 

 overhead ; already the cattle are up and grazing ; 

 already the round shadow of the oak tree begins to 

 lie long across the slope. The noon hour is spent. I 

 hear the quivering click-clack of a mowing-machine 

 in a distant hay field. The work of the day goes on. 

 My hour of rest is almost over, my summer vacation 

 is nearly done. Work begins again to-morrow. 



But I am ready for it. I have rested outstretched 

 upon the warm earth. I have breathed the sweet air 

 of the woods. I have felt the warm life-giving sun 

 upon my face. I have been a child of the earth. I 

 have been a brother to the stone and the bird and the 

 beetle. And now I am strong to do my work, no 

 matter what it is. 



