Excerpt from The Ideal LifeWhen the eyes of the man, old and tired, close at night, he sees the yellow harvest fields and the pastures where the sheep were feeding on their knees, the gabled roof of the old home, and the shy, brown bird, and her brood, which the boy watched. He hears her tiny piping and the nestlings chirp, and the children laugh out again in the narrow lane. So the old years are woven through our present hours in one seamless...
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