OUR HOME IN THE WOODS by CHARLES LOUIS HENRY WAGNER

Where the birds in the spring of the year sweetly sing,
Where oaktrees and maples are sighing,
Where the bright, brilliant gleam of the tanager's wing
Is seen like a meteor flying.

Where the velvet-eyed deer romp from sunrise to dark,
Where the sly, wicked fox shows his nose,
Where the whole out-of-doors is as free as yon lark,
Where you hear the shrill caw of the crows.

Where the brooks gaily dance to their home in the sea,
There are rough creviced rocks brown and bare,
Where you hear the dull buzz of the big bumble-bee
As you track the wild-cat to its lair.

Where anemones grow and the bright golden-rod
In the Fall of the year doth abound,
Where the old world seems rife with the spirit of God,
Where the proof of His being is found.

Where the soul is rejoiced by the evidence shown
Of His goodness, in rock, tree and flower,
Where you hear His voice speak in a thunderous tone
When the woods are refreshed by the shower.

Where the clear, placid lake doth invite you to rest
On its banks with their mosses so green,
Where the spotted brook-trout gives the fisher's sport zest,
Where the dam of the beaver is seen.

Oh, we envy them not, those whose souls are confined
In the city's big mansions of stone,
In our home in the woods there no limit you find,
For all Nature's great world is our own.

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