Job's Pool 



ironweed and aster were to him like martial music. 

 They gave his step a quickness and a spring, put 

 an eagerness into his pulses until he scaled the 

 height and stood beneath the hornbeam that was 

 ruddy as old wine and crowned the hill-top, a 

 triumphal arch. 



Beyond it, where among thin blowing grass, 

 fall dandelions lay like sifted stars was the Del- 

 icate Plain called Ease, and here my father 

 walked with much content. The lure for me lay 

 backward in the valley, surcharged with the full 

 power of the tremendous sunshine, and in the 

 gusty clouds that went speeding down the slope, 

 took the bay at a fine gallop, and went racing 

 out to sea. But from the gray-headed ledge, 

 from stone wall and from the flowering of the 

 open meadow, more intimate demands came tug- 

 ging at him for response. Not always was it 

 the botanist who answered, though it was he who 

 always marveled at blue grass for its fine bee 

 track or wild carrot for the clew it offered by its 

 single fleck of blood. The man would draw him- 

 self erect before the dignity of mullein and ad- 

 mire its steadfastness and calm repose. And let 



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