Oh, I've heard the call of the tall white pine, and heard the call of the
running brook;
I'm tired of the tasks which each day are mine; I'm weary of reading a
printed book.
I want to get out of the din and strife, the clang and clamor of turning
wheel,
And walk for a day where life is life, and the joys are true and the
pictures real.
Committee Meetings
For this and that and various things
It seems that men must get together,
To purchase cups or diamond rings
Or to discuss the price of leather.
From nine to ten, or two to three,
Or any hour that's fast and fleeting,
There is a constant call for me
To go to some committee meeting.
The church has serious work to do,
The lodge and club has need of workers,
They ask for just an hour or two--
Surely I will not join the shirkers?
Though I have duties of my own
I should not drop before completing,
There comes the call by telephone
To go to some committee meeting.
No longer may I eat my lunch
In quietude and contemplation;
I must foregather with the bunch
To raise a fund to save the nation.
And I must talk of plans and schemes
The while a scanty bite I'm eating,
Until I vow to-day it seems
My life is one committee meeting.
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