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WAITING FOR THE CALL.

Though to-day may groan ’neath its weight of care,

and the sun be a raven’s wing

That darkens the faces of children fair

and saddens the songs they sing;

I know it will change at the faintest touch

from the hand of a God-sent Spring!

And I know, though the desert be grim and grey,

and its life be a Lethe’s pond

Whose waters of indolence hold alway