When Snows are Deep 



it, how universally we are led back to 

 the trees? Even the steam that we 

 are just now relying on for our own 

 winter's comfort speaks of the coal 

 measures where the buried forests of 

 forgotten ages wait the summons to 

 give back the fires of Nature's yester- 

 day. And you who have the big fat 

 back-log of more recent growth and the 

 drift-wood, birch, pitch pine or heart 

 of oak or hickory to feed it with have 

 established actual touch with the gold- 

 en days of youth, the out-of-doors and 

 all its blessings. The log that beams 

 for you tonight once bore aloft the 

 swaying cribs in which wild birds were 

 cradled, the lofty branches through 

 which the breezes of the summer night 

 once wandered underneath the stars. 



[91] 



