BROKEN 



WOODLAND 



COUNTRY 



DAYS IN MY GARDEN 



the oaks that skirt its curve, for they have never 

 changed their ways, have still the same strong look as 

 they had then ; they heed not war nor fashion's vogue, 



but fulfil their span 

 of life to serve and 

 beautify. 



Anon the top is 

 reached and we look 

 down to where be- 

 low a broken earth 



is seen, a tangled 

 mass of vales and 

 steeps, all pitched 

 and furrowed, twist- 

 ed deeply in chaotic 

 maze. It is here as if 

 the great Creating 

 Hand had taken up 



the crust of Earth and crushed it to a ball, as we 

 would take a silken handkerchief and, then releasing 

 it, watch its crumpled folds relax. Then, growth had 

 come and clothed the naked scene; now, every canted 

 face reflects a different hue : no mask of summer 



20 



THE TOP OF THE BURDEN SCAR 



