Classic Poem

On the gorgeous hills of morning
A sudden piping of birds,
A piping of all the forest, high and merry and clear,
I lay in my tent and listened;
I lay and heard them long,
In the dark of the moonlit morning,
The birds of the night at song.
I lay and listened and heard them
Sing ere the day was begun;
Sing and sink into
Silence one by one.
I lay in my bed and looked —
Paler than starlight or lightning
A glimmer . . . .

In the highlands in the country places
Where the old plain men have rosy faces,
And the young fair lasses
Qiet eyesPRINT DAMAGED - P. 507