Classic Poem

We dwelt in the woods of the Tippecanoe,
In a lone, lost cabin, with never a view
Of the full day's sun for a while year through.
With strange half hints through the russet corn
We three were hurried one night. Next morn
There was frost on the trees, and a sprinkle of snow
And tracks on the ground. We burst through the door,
And a girl baby cried—and then we were four.
We were not sturdy, and we were not wise,
In the things of the world, and the ways men dare;
A pale-browed mother with a prophet's eyes,
A father that dreamed and looked anywhere,
Three brothers—wild blossoms, tall fashioned as men
And we mingled with none, but we lived as when
The pair first lived, ere they knew the fall:
And loving all things we believed in all.