FOREST LIFE. 75 



Where, through clouds, are glimpses given 



Of Katahdin's sides — 

 Rock and forest piled to heaven, 



Torn and plowed by slides ! 

 Far below the Indian trapping 



In the sunshine warm, 

 Far above the snow-cloud wrapping 



Half the peak in storm ! 



Where are mossy carpets better 



Than the Persian weaves, 

 And, than Eastern perfumes, sweeter 



Seem the fading leaves ; 

 And a music wild and solemn 



From the Fine-tree's height, 

 Rolls its vast and sea-like volume 



On the wind of night. 



Make we here our camp of winter, 



And through sleet and snow 

 Pitch knot and beechen splinter 



On our hearth shall glow ; 

 Here, with mirth to lighten duty, 



We shall lack alone 

 Woman, with her smile of beauty, 



And her gentle tone. ' 



But her hearth is brighter burning 



For our work to-day, 

 And her welcome at returning 



Shall our loss repay. 

 Strike, then, comrades] Trade is waiting 



Oji OUT rugged toil, 

 Far ships waiting for the freighting 



Of our woodland spoil ! 



Ships, whose traffic links these highland! 



Bleak and cold of ours 

 Willi the citron-planted islands 



Of a clime of Howe is ; 



