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My Own Dear Mate:-
"There's a whisper down the field
Where the year has shot her yield
And the ricks stand gray in the sun,
Saying: Over, then come over,
For the bee has quit the clover,
-Our Sonoma Summer's done.
You have heard the beat of the off-shore wind,
And the thresh of the deep-sea rain;
You have heard the song, how long, how long?
Pull out on the trail again!"
From her mate,
Jack London.
Glen Ellen, Calif.
Sept 24, 1906.
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