Poetry of the Farm and Rural Life Connecticut River reeds blown by the "Peasant Bard" |
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THE BORDER HUNTER. |
 | Poetry of the Farm and Rural Life |  |
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THE BORDER HUNTER.
When the sun of the wilderness settles away,
With the dark winter night fast approaching,
And the breath of the North, like a spirit of prey,
On the sun's vanished warmth is encroaching,
With the dark winter night fast approaching,
And the breath of the North, like a spirit of prey,
On the sun's vanished warmth is encroaching,
Note the lone border hunter, afar from his home,
Alone, save his dog,—cold and weary;
His thoughts on the past and companionship roam,
While the prospect at present is dreary.
Alone, save his dog,—cold and weary;
His thoughts on the past and companionship roam,
While the prospect at present is dreary.
So he strikes up a spark and he kindles a light,
And anon the bright blaze is ascending,
And the chill of the wind and the glooms of the night
Stand aloof from the cheer he is tending.
And anon the bright blaze is ascending,
And the chill of the wind and the glooms of the night
Stand aloof from the cheer he is tending.
And he basks in its warmth, and his dog too seems glad
As he licks his wet coat that is smoking;
And the hunter forgets that before he was sad,
In the comfort his fire is evoking.
As he licks his wet coat that is smoking;
And the hunter forgets that before he was sad,
In the comfort his fire is evoking.
I have been there and know; and I think how a friend,
When one is o'erclouded by sorrow,
Can comfort and cheer, and a blessing extend
To help him till dawns the to-morrow.
When one is o'erclouded by sorrow,
Can comfort and cheer, and a blessing extend
To help him till dawns the to-morrow.
| Poetry of the Farm and Rural Life | |