The wild gander leads his flock through the cool night,
Ya honk! he says, and sounds it down to me like
an invitation;
The pert suppose it is meaningless has no meaningless but I listen better, closer
I find it has its place and sign up there towards
the November sky.
The clawed cat of the forest, the deer sharphoofed moose of the north, the cat on the housesill, the prairie-dog
The litter of the grunting sow as they tug at her teats,
The brood of the turkey-hen, and she with her
halfspread wings.
I see in them and myself the same old law.
The press of my foot to the earth springs a hundred
They scorn the best I can do to relate them.

I am enamored of growing outdoors.
Of men that drivers of horses live among cattle or taste of the
ocean or soil.
Of builders [illegible] Of welders [several illegible words] of the drivers of horses
I can eat and sleep with them week in and week out.
What is nearest and commonest and cheapest and [illegible] and easiest is Me,
Me going in for my chances,…spending
Spending for vast returns,
Adorning myself to bestow myself on the first
that will take me,
Not asking the sky to come down to [illegible] my
good will,
Scattering it freely forever.
The pure contralto sings in the organloft,
The carpenter dresses his plank,….the tongue of his fore-plane
whistles its wild ascending lisp,
The married and unmarried children ride home to their
Thanksgiving dinner,
The pilot seizes the king-pin . . . . he heaves down with a strong

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