Western field . OUR OWN GLORIOUS MX. SHASTA. LEGACIES. THE azure overhanging sky is mine;The soft, elusive odor of the pine;The robins morning song, sounding so sweet;The wild flowers that caress my lingering feet. I own the silver moonbeams on the lake;The summer song the wind-wooed pine trees make;The crickets lay, from sun-dried meadow grass;The cool night breezes that by mountains pass. To me belongs the babbling of the brook,The mossy stone within the shady Natures store these things belong to all—To prince and beggar—men both great and small, —Tom Veitch. i^AMP TALES M/ rMMJMSHAl


Western field . OUR OWN GLORIOUS MX. SHASTA. LEGACIES. THE azure overhanging sky is mine;The soft, elusive odor of the pine;The robins morning song, sounding so sweet;The wild flowers that caress my lingering feet. I own the silver moonbeams on the lake;The summer song the wind-wooed pine trees make;The crickets lay, from sun-dried meadow grass;The cool night breezes that by mountains pass. To me belongs the babbling of the brook,The mossy stone within the shady Natures store these things belong to all—To prince and beggar—men both great and small, —Tom Veitch. i^AMP TALES M/ rMMJMSHAlLL.


Size: 1407px × 1776px
Photo credit: © The Reading Room / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No

Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900, booksubjectsports, bookyear1902