24 Bird Day Book 



THE LURE OF BOLENCAMP. 



A DOWN the woodland pathway still, 

 Where wayside flowers grow, 

 Beyond the wastes to laughing brooks 



In summer time I go ; 

 The bird-songs there awaken thoughts 



That thro' long years have slept, 

 For Father Time with watchful care 



These sleeping thoughts has kept — 

 In summer time I often tramp, 

 For 'tis the lure of Bolencamp. 



In boyhood's days among these scenes, 



With gladful heart I played, 

 And when the days were warm and bright 



O'er far-off hills I strayed; 

 For fairy tales from books I'd learned 



Led me on 'venture's quest, 

 And oft my day-dreams pictured me 



As some good fairy's guest — 

 So oft I take a summer tramp, 

 For 'tis lure of Bolencamp. 



The orchard trees once fair to see 



Are gnarled and olden now. 

 Their sapless trunks preach of decay, 



With ne'er a fruitful bough, 

 But still they hold some mem'ry dear, 

 Some thoughts of other days, 

 Ere Innocence was made to tread 



The path of wicked ways — 

 And so I sometimes gladly tramp 

 To sate the lure of Bolencamp. 



The forest trees upon the hills, 



In beauty as of yore, 

 Are still untouched by ruthless hands, 



While Commerce calls for more; 



