Unformatted text preview: Sip from the earth in their endless thirst, And pour again till the low streams leap. -But no boy knows when he goes to sleep. A boy may know what a long, glad while It has been to him since the dawn's first smile, When forth he fared in the realm divine Of brook-laced woodland and spun-sunshine; -He may know each call of his truant mates, And the paths they went, - and the pasture-gates Of the 'cross-lots home through the dusk so deep. -But no boy knows when he goes to sleep....
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- Spring '11
- Algebra, Precipitation, Boy, endless thirst