Tramp lustily forward, with head upheld, 

 with mouth close-shut, and no harm of it 

 shall befall you. Now we gain the wood's 

 edge, and look back at the long fields criss- 

 crossed with snow-capped fences, streaked 

 faintly hither and yon with trails of ven- 

 turous foot-prints. 



Woodsmen are all abroad. From every 

 hand axe-strokes ring cheerily through the 

 bitter air. Leave them behind, and plunge 

 into the deep forest, whose big boles show 

 in dim, dark colonnades against the white 

 earth. There only does the winter most 

 truly enthrall you. The sharp wind is shiv- 

 ered into a long, chill sighing. Especially 

 here in lee of this low slope, clothed top to 

 bottom with trees that, had they tongues 

 understood of men, could tell you rare tales 

 of vanished days, vanished races of Creek 

 and Choctaw and Cherokee of Algonquin 

 and Ojibwa who by turns killed deer, or 

 bear, or buffalo in their shadow, or turned 

 tomahawk and arrow one against the other's 

 breast. 



All this wide, central region was dark and 

 bloody ground, held of no tribe, hunted, 

 wrestled over by all. It is sown thick with 

 their weapons every ploughman turns them 

 up. Here, under these huge oaks, was once 



