The summer—no sweeter was ever,
The sunshiny woods all a-thrill;
The grayling a-leap in the river,
The bighorn asleep on the hill.
The strong life that never knows harness;
The wilds where the caribou call;
The freshness, the freedom, the farness—
O God! how I'm stuck on it all.
The sunshiny woods all a-thrill;
The grayling a-leap in the river,
The bighorn asleep on the hill.
The strong life that never knows harness;
The wilds where the caribou call;
The freshness, the freedom, the farness—
O God! how I'm stuck on it all.
The winter! the brightness that blinds you,
The white land locked tight as a drum,
The cold fear that follows and finds you,
The silence that bludgeons you dumb.
The snows that are older than history,
The woods where the weird shadows slant,
The stillness, the moonlight, the mystery,
I've bade 'em good-bye—but I can't.
The white land locked tight as a drum,
The cold fear that follows and finds you,
The silence that bludgeons you dumb.
The snows that are older than history,
The woods where the weird shadows slant,
The stillness, the moonlight, the mystery,
I've bade 'em good-bye—but I can't.
By permission of the publishers,
Barse and Hopkins.
