From branch and bough and lofty crown.
Fringing the foreground of the scene,
I saw the slender birches lean
Lovingly o’er the tussocks green.
The leaves were thickly set o’erhead,
The low-growth dense around was spread—
But suddenly filled my heart with dread.
A sight, a sound the soul to shock—
A dark face peering past a rock,
The clicking of a rifle lock.