Straining up the rise with heavy books
I grumble. But at the top gold sifting
Through the fleeting fog shifts the shadows
On distant hills, and I almost follow the road
That is lost in a green haze on the horizon.
But by the time I reach the turn to school
Those beckoning beyonds are gone from sight,
And I am able to quiet this vagabond heart,
Taking with me the glimpse of morning on the hills.
A Student’s Temptation
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