.MTM4Nw.MTE4ODI1

2 like one sentry silhouetted on his post of observation, - from one hill to the next the cry speeds - , from one brave unconcern to the next, - we must never let it die - and in this today we must face and are prenatally looking away from before noon - Before the dust of the early tradesman's boots has become the sailing surface of midday idleness - Before caress of evening cool rolls down its sleeves and