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Show DAY DEEAM PICTTJEXS. There's a quiver of beat o'er the asphalted as-phalted street. . And the noon of the city Is biasing. As I sit at my desk, viewing scenes picturesque. pic-turesque. Of broad meadows where cattle are grazing. Tha great brick and atone piles, which wall up th defile - Where the throngs of th city are surging, surg-ing, Melt away to give place to unlimited space. With the woods, hills and vaUeys merging. merg-ing. There the brook ripple mocks, as' It purla o'er th rocks. At the songs of th birds flying over; And th senses are lulled by the air, which seems mulled In th dollcat scent of the clover. With a freedom divine and ecstasy fine I exult in the glories of summer.. For I feel that aU's real tn these dream scenes ideal. And forget that I'm only a mummer. Then street noises Invade the dream pictures, pic-tures, which fade. And the view Into masonry's blended; At high walls I aura through the city's noon glarsv And my summer vacation is ended. - Brooklyn Life. |