Western field . Copyrighted bvUnderwood & Underwood THEODORE ROOSEVELT SPORTSMAN jyO sluggish blood is in thy veins Thy heart is young, thy step is free,Thy joy ts in the boundless plains,e^nd stretch of mountain scenery. Thou knowest that intense delight IVhen antlered stag bounds oer the glance along the steady sterht, The aim, the pause, the rijles crack. When worn with great affairs of statey Long-closeted and weary-eyed,Though petty politicians prae, Go thou unto the mountain side. Sleep ^neath the Heaven^s encircling dome,Tis thus the sportsman loves thee best; There where the
Western field . Copyrighted bvUnderwood & Underwood THEODORE ROOSEVELT SPORTSMAN jyO sluggish blood is in thy veins Thy heart is young, thy step is free,Thy joy ts in the boundless plains,e^nd stretch of mountain scenery. Thou knowest that intense delight IVhen antlered stag bounds oer the glance along the steady sterht, The aim, the pause, the rijles crack. When worn with great affairs of statey Long-closeted and weary-eyed,Though petty politicians prae, Go thou unto the mountain side. Sleep ^neath the Heaven^s encircling dome,Tis thus the sportsman loves thee best; There where the hunter makes his art always a welcome guest. Thoniis Maitlanti Marsltcill. GODS EDIFICE. GOD is the Architect of Natures edifice,Its spires are tipped with flaming stars, its verbrant bellEchoes the spheres, each niche the cavernous dawn, saffron and vert, its stained oriel. —Thomas Maitland ON TUK OLD COLUMBIA RIVER—(At Astoria.) Here a-coming, there ceasing, ever flowing—Surging, sighing, singing, with laughter—dreaming, dashing—Like the restless soul of human,Like the changing heart of thy verve is thy spirit seems the throb of hope no sign that life is waning. Proud and peaceful, imlsing riverHow thy being seems to quiverAs with passions reconditeNeath thy bosoms limpid light—Passions that thou fain wouldst onward fast and faster—Secrets that thy soul wouldst smugglePast the wild and seaward struggle—Pulse profound and thoughts sublime and sigh prophetic How thy diaphanic spirit Seems to seek yet seems to fear it As the opalescent ocean With an infinite emotion Lifts its bosom to the greeting— Heaves its billows to the meeting— Mids thee sleep the sleep supernal In the depth of seas eternal— Hids thee come and bids thee slumber Where
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900, booksubjectsports, bookyear1902
