Two Sentinels 41 
From the vale of singing waters 
Where the deer feed unmolested 
Rise black Passaconway's ledges 
Upward till the eye is dizzy. 
Clouds around that summit linger, 
Safe as in the high sky's pastures ; 
Stars at night repose upon it, 
Ere they seek their downward journey. 
Years ago a dense spruce forest 
Clung upon the heaped-up ledges, 
Gained the resting-place of planets. 
Reared itself into the cloudland. 
Tapping, tapping on its shoulders 
Came a friend from distant Northland ; 
On his head a cap of yellow, 
Round his form a cloak of sable, 
Fingers three he raised in warning, 
Brief his words but full of meaning : 
" If you crowd upon the cloudland 
Fear the days of late November.'' 
One by one the days departed 
To the land beyond the echoes, 
