Where the sleeted pine is riven and rent,
By stress and strain of the mist-bank gray;
We struggled and fed through the reedling’s bed,
Where the sheldrake croons to her fledglings brown,
And the otter mewed to its hungry brood,
As the osprey peered from the hemlock’s crown.
Our moosling day was a rapturous play,
We browsed where the partridge drummed a song,
Where the brown bear hid in the tamarack,
Where the days were short and the nights were long.