. Rhymes of the stream and forest. od the pine,Its twisted top far-flung against the sky. With massive trunk high oer the smaller trees,A sentinel thus for ages has it stood. First warnings felt of every storm-sent breezeThat swept the branches of that ancient wood. In Summer, oer the heat-enveloped glade,Those twisted boughs, their varied paused the deer, within their deeper night, here sought he then, his moss-grownbed. 88 Rhyiiics of the Stream and Forest. When Winters winds, their icy burdens brought,And decked this pine in crystal drapery, What beauty here, th
. Rhymes of the stream and forest. od the pine,Its twisted top far-flung against the sky. With massive trunk high oer the smaller trees,A sentinel thus for ages has it stood. First warnings felt of every storm-sent breezeThat swept the branches of that ancient wood. In Summer, oer the heat-enveloped glade,Those twisted boughs, their varied paused the deer, within their deeper night, here sought he then, his moss-grownbed. 88 Rhyiiics of the Stream and Forest. When Winters winds, their icy burdens brought,And decked this pine in crystal drapery, What beauty here, the snow-kings magicwroughtIn untold forms of wondrous tracery. Such forest music must this tree have knownWhen through its boughs, the wanderingwinds have stirred,Could but some mighty organ now intone, Would hold in raptured spell, all those whoheard. Could I but call from out those long-passed whispered melody of this lone pine, Then to such heights, would I these verses raise,That all the world would harken to my 89 Going flome Old Northern Hills, once more Im going home. Thy loved and hallowed spots I bid good-bye,Where for a time, has been my share to roam And know the joys that in thy shadows lie. For here, old Hills, Ive found that welcome rest,That rest which round the soul new gladnessthrows. That lifts from off a heart, care-worn, depressed,That heavy, long-borne load, one weary knows. But, for a time, old Hills, once more we part. Now fades the murmur of thy crystal the shadow of thy forest heart, No more the welcome of our camp-fire gleams. If on sonie last sad day, my share should thread no more thy shadowed hidden ways, Old Hills, how often then thy mystery Would in my heart, thy loved remembranceraise. 90 JUN 25 1909
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