ANNALS OF THE 
Whence comes that hollow, ringing sound 
Echoing throueh the woods around ? 
Most like the sleeper's heavy snore, 
Or rapid tapping at one's door? 
At rise of sun, on April morn, 
The farmer hears this rousing horn, 
Invoking loud each slumbering thing 
To rise and hail th' approach of Spring. 
On yonder dry and barkless tree 
The little workman you may see, 
Pecking away with all his might 
To bring forth maggots to the I'ght; 
With scarlet nighl-cap on his head, 
Out early toiling for his bread. 
Though hard the wood, 'tis morticed well. 
In rows of holes all parallel ; 
Or curved with nicest art and rule 
As though the bird had been at school. 
Now, dragging forth the struggling prey. 
He fills his beak and hies away 
With wavy flight to where his brood 
Are waiting for their morning food. 
In a most turious house on high 
Hid from the truant school-boy's eye. 
And scoop'd and planed with nicest skill, 
With no tool save the little bill, 
In a tall trunk whose branchless foma 
Heeds not the howling of the storm ; 
But come away and let him rest. 
Touch not the little fel ow's nest. 
Here dashes by the hurrying stream. 
Scarce reach'd by one faint struggling beam; 
Dense heaves the wood on either side 
The swelling bosom of its pride; 
Here lifts the oak its awful term 
To woo the breeze or mock the storm ; 
The gloomy fir, of shapely height. 
Rising so scrup'lously upright ; 
The maple, loo, whose uselul trunk 
Affords us fuel, sugar, spunk ; 
The graceful elm, whose equal stem 
The settlers found of use to them 
To rear the barn, or simple hut 
On which the basswood troughs were put. 
Well hollowed out and laid with care, 
Each one above an under p;:ir. 
Twofold ; the insidious ram to catch. 
In lieu of shingle, slate or thatch ; 
The basswood, seldom useful found — 
Outward too soft, within unsound ; 
The spreading beech that idly fares 
Two years lor every one it bears ; 
The cedar, too, whose pounded bark 
Oft lights the traveller in the dark — 
Whose light, free wood material yields 
To roof yi/ur house or fence your fields^ 
Or chase with sparkling heat away 
The fi osty breatn of wintry day ; 
Witli various plants of humbler fame 
Which space forbids me now to name. 
Hark to the moaning of the wood I 
The distant dashing of the flood, 
As wild it tosses on alone 
Its headlong path of craggy stone. 
To whore it lulls itself asleep, 
Or faint its weary waters creep 
Across the low aud level marge. 
And spread among the trees at large ; 
Once trees ; now but a leafless grove, 
Where the hoarse bull-frog lores to roTe, 
And raise that far-resounding note 
That booms from his capacious throat. 
Two Red-men, if the tale be true. 
Once fell asleep in their canoe ; 
And when they woke a monstrous frog 
Was sitting near them on ?, log ; 
In idle humour him they seized, 
And the unlucky creature teased 
By pouring spirits down his throat. 
Then set the staggering thing afloat, 
When loud he roared, "More rum! more rum!" 
But the historian here is dumb. 
Whether 'twas from the pain he bore. 
Or that his frogship wanted more: 
Tet all tradition plainly shows 
That thus the bull-frog's cry arose. 
Now droops the day on ocean's breast ; 
The weary warbler seeks his rest ; 
The sombre crow, with pond'rous flight, 
Makes homeward on th' approach of night • 
Whilst deeper in the ethereal plain 
Laborious floats the heavy crane. 
Night moves apace in ebon chair ; 
A peaceful silence fills the air. 
Save when some dire mosquito wings 
About your face, ahghts, and stings ! 
Or frogs symphonious join to raise 
In neighb'ring pond their hymn of praise ; 
Or e'en remote in shady del), 
The half-heard tinklings of the bell 
Shew that the greedy cow may fail 
To seek betimes the welcome pail. 
0 ! is there here some bearded man 
Who, when a little school-hoy ran 
His dreary mile or lonely league, 
Oppressed with terror and fatigue. 
To seek the truant herd, not yet 
Returned, although the sun is set ? 
If such there be, he too can tell 
How vague fear in his heart did swell 
As desperately he gallop'd by 
The thicket shade where panthers lie ; 
And how his breath returned again 
As he emerged into the plain. 
This is the cows' accustomed spot. 
Yet here the plaguy beasts are not; 
A moment now he glances round ; 
He sees no sign, he bears no sound; 
Before him lies the dismal road. 
Dense woods around — the wolTs abode ! 
Fast beats the tim'rous youngster's heart; 
He dashes on, but oft does start ; 
At stir of leaf or sigh of air, 
He fancies some dread thing is there ; 
And scarce his very hat for dread 
Will keep its place upon his head ! 
Swift ply the Icet ; no fleetest hind 
Could leave the frantic youth behind. 
Now o'er the sable robes of Night 
Fair Cynthia sheds her silver light ; 
And, humming soft notes thro' the trees. 
Wings gently by the evening breeze. 
Night warns" us home ; too Fate's the hoar 
To seek for lichen, moss or flower ; 
Call in ttie dogs, bring home the gun, 
My Summer Ramble now is done. 
KiMQSTOM, Not. 29tb, 1861. 
