112 FOREST FANCIES 



Drivers guided them into the current. There 

 was the lulling motion of moving water ; then 

 the mountains went slipping by and the forest 

 faded into the past, and they floated far, far 

 down the changing valley, out into that great 

 world which Picea was now to know. 



In a quiet harbor, the forest pilgrims found 

 their rest. A mill rose before them like a 

 castle; but to Picea it was the gateway into 

 the world, which she was to enter, dressed in 

 bark, and come forth in a garment of snow, 

 clothed like a bride. 



One day the poet opened a book. Picea 

 remembered the touch of that hand. His look 

 drifted over pages white like the dogwood in 

 bloom, yet lingered upon one — the least of all 

 the poems ; and he seemed once more upon the 

 mountain side, listening to the song of the 

 spruce tree : 



Formed and fashioned like a tree, 

 Shade I am and shield to thee, 

 How content, through sun, through rain, 

 In the forest to remain ! 



