XVII 
DOUBLE POETRY 
MEADOW LARK singing on a pine tree 
—that is the double poetry. And think 
. of it! How it sweetens the sky, even in 
the thinking! But the hearing—ah me, what a 
chorus of poetry it did make! 
All my life time have I had the gladdening of 
the heart at the thought of a meadow lark. 
That is probably because I am a prairie man 
and grew up with this bonnie bird of the liquid 
note. Many a morning, wading through prairie 
grasses shining with the dew, have I heard his 
note of sunny cheer ring out with the wild wind 
breath on it and a whole sky of song behind, 
around, above. My ladhood drank in somewhat 
of this music, and as my manhood came apace 
I learned more of the poetry of God’s world and 
so came to charm my heart on many more of 
this world’s sweet ministries as becometh added 
years. If as the years pass we love not more 
things and have not cheer with wider areas of 
creation, what use have we made of living? 
We had as well died when children. This world 
grows fairer with every passing day is the testi- 
mony of this one man who has had the song of 
the meadow lark in his heart for years on years 
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