Nor dreads the Hound's loud bark upon his lonely stream.
Far from men's haunts the Beaver builds his dam
And ponderous mound, to keep him safe from harm;
His larder filled with choicest winter stores,—
Cold winds may bite and blow, his lair is soft and warm.
Thro' rushing chute and pool the Fisher swims;
And Mink and Martin sport right merrily;
While overhead the angry Squirrel chides,
And warns the rude intruder from his nut-stored tree.
And when the maple trees are stripped and bare,—