The woods

by Douglas Malloch

And I, ere Spring shall set me free,

Shall look on many moons;

Yea, I shall look on moon and tree

And live my dreamy Junes—

But ev’ry moon that I shall see

A memory of you will be.

MY MAN AN’ ME

My man an’ me fer forty year

Have hiked it up the hill,

An’ side by side, an’ bound an’ tied,