OTCJT'IEaO OIEQ
A PINEHURST MORNING
Tie east its violet robe had shed,
When near a casement, in a tree,
4 'Get up! Get up! Thou slug-a-bed!"
A mocking bird made mock at me.
Then something stirred within my brain;
I was awake, alert and keen
Who had been drowsy as the train
That puffs and crawls from Aberdeen.
Again the mocking-bird: "Get up!
See how the waiting morning shines!
Go forth and taste its golden cup
And hear the wind within the pines!"
So at this lyrical command
I felt that I must needs obey;
Then the wind took me by the hand
And led me down a winding way.
And ever, wheresoever I went,
By open field or close confines,
The wind on its clear instrument
Made music for me in the pines.
And if I chanced a flower to find
Beneath a leaf or spray or fir,
Down from the pine trees came the wind
To act as my interpreter.
"The arbutus shows," he cried in mirth,
Seeing me pluck a blossom fair,
"How sweet in Carolinian earth;
I show how tonic is its air."
What better comrade could I chose
Divining more than man divines
Of nature and its brimming cruse,
Than the rare spirit of the Pines.
Hear then a last applausive word
From one who drained morn's golden
cup !
My thanks are to tliat mocking-bird
Who cried to me "Get up! Get up!"
Clinton Scollard
10 Cents Published Weekly November to May by THE OUTLOOK PUBLISHING CO., Pmehurst, N. C. $2 .00 a Year