The Black Swans 



on the hearth there is this late fall 

 day a spot that has for me an infinitely 

 greater charm than any picture gallery 

 of which this world can boast. It is a 

 patch of woodland that men have not 

 yet touched. Briars and burrs and 

 thickly-matted bluegrass contest with 

 all sorts of underbrush for possession 

 of the soil beneath the trees. You will 

 have to fight your way into this tangled 

 hidden sanctuary, but once inside you 

 will feel and know that you are a part 

 of all of it, and the gray clouds floating 

 away there towards the lake shall pass 

 on over the great city with all its 

 miseries and leave you to your thoughts 

 and prayers and the blessed solace of 

 close fellowship with Nature clad in 

 beauty that no human hand can imi- 

 tate nor words describe. Wild grapes 

 and woodbine help themselves to the 

 first supporting branch they find. Here 

 and there the burly bodies of great 

 oaks speak eloquently of strength and 

 patient, silent growth through the un- 



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