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The Friendly Fan

From the Rock Island Argus, June 13, 1914. By Henry Howland.

No snow-capped mountains may be seen
    From where I sit and work away;
No meadows that are wide and green
    Delight my soul from day to day;
I walk beneath no spreading trees
    Nor sit beside a sparkling pool,
But there is a delightful breeze
    That serves to keep me calm and cool.

All day I hear the city’s roar,
    The room I occupy is small,
And when I let my fancy soar
    It bumps against a lofty wall;
Instead of scents of new-mown hay,
    I sniff the fumes of gasoline,
But cooling breezes all the day
    Assist me to remain serene.

I may not sit upon a fence
    While watching busy harvest hands;
Each morning early I commence
    The work necessity demands.
But while I strive with all my might
    To do my part as best I can,
I hear with undisturbed delight
    The hum of my electric fan.

Let others hurry far away
    In search of scenes that may be fair,
Or in the harvest fields all day
    Attempt to rid their souls of care.
My brow is kept from burning by
    Cool breezes wafted from a shelf—
By soothing, friendly zephyrs I
    Can regulate to suit myself.

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