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Birds of the Heavens [FIRST WEEK 



otherwise would have broken their shells on some Arctic 

 waste, with only the snowbirds to admire, and to be watched 

 with greedy eyes by the Arctic owls. 



A haze on the far horizon, 



The infinite tender sky, 

 The ripe, rich tints of the cornfields, 



And the wild geese sailing high; 

 And ever on upland and lowland, 



The charm of the golden-rod 

 Some of us call it Autumn, 



And others call it God. 



W. H. CARRUTH. 



