Musings by camp-fire and wayside . crossed ?Is the cry that we hear,So plaintive and clear,Sweet Love in the wilderness lost ?Ah me—me—me ! The Sparrow : And dost thou not know, my sweet swain,That Loves the twin brother of Pain, And reaches the heart through a wound ?Im not Love that is crossed,Im not Love that is lost,I am Love in the wilderness me—me—me ! The Poet: Aphrodite was born of the so it has happened for me— My white lily bloomed on the tide;Her sweet-breathed charmsFloated up to my arms—Fate must have decreed her my me—me—me ! 24 Musings by Camp-Fire a
Musings by camp-fire and wayside . crossed ?Is the cry that we hear,So plaintive and clear,Sweet Love in the wilderness lost ?Ah me—me—me ! The Sparrow : And dost thou not know, my sweet swain,That Loves the twin brother of Pain, And reaches the heart through a wound ?Im not Love that is crossed,Im not Love that is lost,I am Love in the wilderness me—me—me ! The Poet: Aphrodite was born of the so it has happened for me— My white lily bloomed on the tide;Her sweet-breathed charmsFloated up to my arms—Fate must have decreed her my me—me—me ! 24 Musings by Camp-Fire and Wayside The Sparrow : But nymphs who are bom of the seaYou know are capricious and free,And sometimes defiant of , sweet swain,Like Rapture and Pain,That Love is the brother of me—me—me ! The Poet: Sad sprite of the forest, thy songIs omen of pitiless wrong, And sweetly bemoaneth my fate. Too oft, as with you. The false wins the true— Loves arrows are stolen by Hate. Ah me—me—me !. CLEAR LAKE. Nature and the Supernatural IT has been a day of rain—the pines are sighingin the wind and tossing their plumy branchesas if flurried and disturbed. The pine is asensible tree. When the wind is so strong as toendanger its hold in the earth, it casts off limbafter limb, until its strength of root and bole areadequate to hold the remainder of its foliage againstthe gale. It strips itself to the conflict, and yetsacrifices not a twig that it can safely retain. The evening camp-fire burns low. One by onethe brands have dissolved into coals, and one byone the little circle has retired into the cabins andgone to sleep. I take from a pile of the skeletonof a dead pine one of its huge resinous bones andcast it on the coals. The surrounding trees have allretired into the silent darkness to repose from thetoils of the stormy day—now with its wrestlingwinds also gone into the darkness of the past. Im-mediately the yellow flames shoot up high, and
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Keywords: ., bookauthorgraywill, bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900, bookyear1902
