. Rhymes of the stream and forest. A With force increasing, onward swept the storm. The trees beneath it, cried in wild swaying tops low by the wild winds borne, Swept onward to our ears, its sullen moan. The first few scattered raindrops reached the patter heard above the winds refrain. Then, wall-like, followed close within their wake,The drenching down-pour of the driven rain. Then swept oer lake and wood, the storms wildroar. The waters whipped to foam beneath its waves thrown high upon the beaten shore. The forest trees before its blast, bent low. Above th
. Rhymes of the stream and forest. A With force increasing, onward swept the storm. The trees beneath it, cried in wild swaying tops low by the wild winds borne, Swept onward to our ears, its sullen moan. The first few scattered raindrops reached the patter heard above the winds refrain. Then, wall-like, followed close within their wake,The drenching down-pour of the driven rain. Then swept oer lake and wood, the storms wildroar. The waters whipped to foam beneath its waves thrown high upon the beaten shore. The forest trees before its blast, bent low. Above the shrieking of the winds, was borne,From out the far shores wild, wind-sweptlagoon, As though some fiend in torment rode the weird, unearthly laughter of the loon. 72. #? Xne Unknown Lake A Summer agone we found you Walled by the forest old,Your crystal waters freshened Where the hidden springs gushed cold. How passed the spell of Autumn When the ripened leaves came down, And on your sheltered watersBuilt them their rafts of brown? Now, locked in your ice-formed mantleNeath the gray of the Winters sky Unrufiled, unmoved, unseeing,Your silent waters lie. But the Winter days shall lengthen And the time of waiting wane,And we, who have found and loved you, Shall come to our own again. 75 ^•J ^1 At tke Trails End Mile after mile we have traveledBy the trails long winding way, Til deep in the ancient forestWe rest at the close of day. Stretched is the roof of canvas,Fresh-pulled the balsam boughs,While the camp-fires new-born cracklingThe woodland spirits rouse. The evening meal is finished, Tobaccos spell holds sway,And we drowse and speak of the morrow, And plan for the coming day. 76 Rhymes of the Stream and Forest. Hushed is the darkened forest N
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