THE WILDERNESS LURE 



O whence the voice that lures me on to little lakes 

 I know, 



Where flapping teal fly up at dawn and fringing 

 balsams grow, 



Where forests rule the lonely land, unmarked, un- 

 tamed, unmarred, 



And sentry-like the Norways stand majestic, silent 

 guard? 



A voice that brings the frighted hush of deer among 



the pine, 

 Aad whispers of the whip-like rush of bass upon 



* the line. 

 The Call is strong and once again I finger gun and 



rod 

 And dream of covers where I've lain and trails that 



once I trod. 



You've heard the Call the Red Gods send on all the 



winds that blow; 

 You've felt the lure, O Pal and Friend, that comes 



to those who know. 



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