With the great gale we journey
That breathes from gardens thinned,
Borne in the drift of blossoms
Whose petals throng the wind;

Buoyed on the heaven-heard whisper
Of dancing leaflets whirled
From all the woods that autumn
Bereaves in all the world.

And midst the fluttering legion
Of all that ever died

I follow, and before us

Goes the delightful guide,

With lips that brim with laughter

But never once respond,.

And feet that fly on feathers,
And serpent-circled wand.

A. E. Housman

WH

THE WANDERER

HOSE farthest footstep never strayed
Beyond the village of his birth

Is but a lodger for the night

In this old wayside inn of earth.

To-morrow he shall take his pack
And set out for the ways beyond
On the old trail from star to star,
An alien and a vagabond.

Richard Hovey

THE CAMP

Who hath smelt wood-smoke at twilight? Who hath heard the birch-log burning?

Kipling

Im kühlen Tannenwalde

Da steht mein freies Haus.

Adolf Stöber

For thou shalt be in league with the stones of the field: and the beasts of the field shall be at peace with thee. And thou shalt know that thy tabernacle shall be in peace.

Book of Job, V. 23-4

THE CAMP

A NIGHT AMONG THE PINES

TIGHT is a dead monotonous period under a

with its stars and dews and perfumes, and the hours are marked by changes in the face of Nature. What seems a kind of temporal death to people choked between walls and curtains, is only a light and living slumber to the man who sleeps afield. All night long he can hear Nature breathing deeply and freely; even as she takes her rest, she turns and smiles; and there is one stirring hour unknown to those who dwell in houses, when a wakeful influence goes abroad over the sleeping hemisphere, and all the outdoor world are on their feet. It is then that the cock first crows, not this time to announce the dawn, but like a cheerful watchman speeding the course of night. Cattle awake on the meadows; sheep break their fast on dewy hillsides, and change to a new lair among the ferns; and houseless men, who have lain down with the fowls, open their dim eyes and behold the beauty of the night.

We are disturbed in our slumber only, like the luxurious Montaigne, "that we may the better and more sensibly relish it." We have a moment to look upon the stars. And there is a special pleasure for some minds in the reflection that we share the impulse with all out-door creatures in our neighborhood, that we have escaped out of

the Bastille of civilization, and are become, for the time being, a mere kindly animal and a sheep of Nature's flock.

Robert Louis Stevenson

UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE

[NDER the green wood tree,

UNDER

Who loves to lie with me,

And tune his merry note

Unto the sweet bird's throat,

Come hither, come hither, come hither:
Here shall he see

No enemy

But winter and rough weather.

Who doth ambition shun,
And loves to live i' the sun,
Seeking the food he eats,

And pleased with what he gets,
Come hither, come hither, come hither:
Here shall he see

No enemy

But winter and rough weather.

FAIRY BREAD

Shakespeare

COME

NOME up here, O dusty feet!
Here is fairy bread to eat.

Here in my retiring room,

Children, you may dine

On the golden smell of broom
And the shade of pine;

And when you have eaten well,

Fairy stories hear and tell.

Robert Louis Stevenson