TWO SENTINELS 
NCE upon the slope of Paugus, 
Reaching out towards Passacon- 
way, 
Grew a mighty hemlock forest. 
Proud, aspiring, cloudland seeking ; 
Through its branches swept the west wind, 
Laughing, teasing, bent on frolic. 
But the hemlocks would not heed it, 
Stiffly held they high their summits, 
Scorning mirth and jest and frolic. 
Frowning on the roistering west wind. 
Tapping, tapping on their shoulders 
Came a friend from distant Northland ; 
On his head a cap of yellow. 
On his back a snow^-white ladder. 
All his form in sable gathered, 
Brief his words, but full of warning : 
" If you win the west wind's anger 
Fear the days of late November." 
