IN THE MAPLE WOOD 



Crimson Inirn the briar-tips now 

 As the sky at vesper-vow; 



And the sap within the maple 

 Tingles to the topmost bough. 



From its winter-long repose 

 Wakes the wood; the bonfire glows; 



Up and down the leafless arches 

 Rings the clamor of the crows. 



And from early morning-dream. 

 Freed by the awakening beam. 



How the sap into the buckets 

 Trickles in a silvery stream! 



Where the maples thickest throng 

 Plod the toilers late and long. 



While the low voice of the caldron 

 Sings its ceaseless sugar-song. . 



Hither when the aisles grow dim 

 And the pine knots flare and swim, 

 Comes a group of laughing lasses, 

 Cheeks aglow and eyes abrim. 



Then the merriment has flow. 

 Quips go darting to and fro, 



While the more than hone\ed nectar 

 Turns to sugar in the snow. 



And if sweeter things th:m this 

 Chance (a surreptitious kiss!) 



Where's the man or where's the maiden 

 Who would count such joy amiss.' 



For when winter's fetters part. 

 And the maple juices start. 



Then it is, my maids and masters 

 Stirs the love-tide in the heart! 



Clinton Scollard 



From The Lyric Bouj 

 Used by permission of the .luthor 



