UNDER the blue, over the blue, 

 Only the wake of the swift canoe, 

 In purling whiteness breaks and breaks, 

 Over the turquoise nameless lakes, 

 Under the blue and over the blue, 

 Woods of the North, I long for you. 



Over the green and under the green, 

 The white clouds lift o'er the woodland's rim, 

 And the call of a loon the echoes sound, 

 From rock-bound shores rebound, resound. 

 Over the green and under the green, 

 Woods of the North, of you I dream. 



Over the red and under the red, 



And the sweet, cool smell of the balsam bed, 



The fire shines on the waters dark, 



And not a sound 'till the meadow lark 



Rouses us to the road ahead, 



Woods of the North, those days are fled. 



17 



