Xi 
UNDER THE TENT OF THE WILD CRAB 
BLOSSOMING 
ETWEEN trains, a long, indolent, delicious 
June daylight. Think on that, you who 
love life and the bobolink’s song. So hav- 
ing stowed my grips at the station, I hied me away. 
But as for that, when do I not hie me unto the 
fields if a thousandth part of a chance offer? 
My hieing apparatus is good and in perpetual 
repair. We shall not be staying in this out-of- 
doors world always, and we must sprawl down 
on the bank of its streams and drink the running 
water the most we may. To-morrow we may 
not be here, and the Master of it all may ask 
us for a report on the journey we have taken 
and we shall not wish to be abashed and silent. 
So till dusk darkens into darkness and the widest- 
awake bird is fast asleep on its sleepy bough, 
I shall be free. Nobody knows I am here and 
nobody cares. And it is winsome June a-calling 
and it is I a-coming to the call. 
“Give me health and a day and I will make 
the pomp of emperors ridiculous,” said our 
transcendental friend Emerson; and he is right 
sometimes. He is right this time if he meant 
this June day; for I have health (and I give 
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