Now all below is thick, you know, with 'cacia,
alder, and pine,
And the bright shrubs deck the side of the
beck, and the lian flowers so fine,
For the forest creeps all under the steeps, and
feathers the feet of the crags
With boughs So thick that your path you pick,
like a steamer among the snags.
But right above you, the crags, Lord love you!
are bare as this here hand,