hands of giants wearied in play. From the woods little streams come 

 trickling to the meadow, making nooks and dells and glens, where the 

 ferns, undisturbed, speak in every delicate frond, of the sanctity of 



Labrador Tea. 



nature inviolate, and the harsh noises from the town's pushing, 

 hustling, money-making factories sink into softness, recalling man's 

 universal kinship. These rough, worn hill-sides, scarred and seamed 



