The Lumbermen

WILDLY round our woodland quartersSad-voiced Autumn grieves;Thickly down these swelling watersFloat his fallen leaves.Through the tall and naked timber,Column-like and old,Gleam the sunsets of November,From their skies of gold.

O'er us, to the southland heading,Screams the gray wild-goose;On the night-frost sounds the treadingOf the brindled moose.Noiseless creeping, while we're sleeping,Frost his task-work plies;Soon, his icy bridges heaping,Shall our log-piles rise.

When, with sounds of smothered thunder,On some night of rain,Lake and river break asunderWinter's weakened chain,Down the wild March flood shall bear themTo the saw-mill's wheel,Or where Steam, the slave, shall tear themWith his teeth of steel.

Be it starlight, be it moonlight,In these vales below,When the earliest beams of sunlightStreak the mountain's snow,Crisps the boar-frost, keen and early,To our hurrying feet,And the forest echoes clearlyAll our blows repeat.

Where the crystal AmbijejisStretches broad and clear,And Millnoket's pine-black ridgesHide the browsing deerWhere, through lakes and wide morasses,Or through rocky walls,Swift and strong, Penobscot passesWhite with foamy falls;

Where, through clouds, are glimpses givenOf Katahdin's sides,--Rock and forest piled to heaven,Torn and ploughed by slides!Far below, the Indian trapping,In the sunshine warm;Far above, the snow-cloud wrappingHalf the peak in storm!

Where are mossy carpets betterThan the Persian weaves,And than Eastern perfumes sweeterSeem the fading leaves;And a music wild and solemn,From the pine-tree's height,Rolls its vast and sea-like volumeOn the wind of night;

Make we here our camp of winter;And, through sleet and snow,Pitchy knot and beechen splinterOn our hearth shall glow.Here, with mirth to lighten duty,We shall lack aloneWoman's smile and girlhood's beauty,Childhood's lisping tone.

But their hearth is brighter burningFor our toil to-day;And the welcome of returningShall our loss repay,When, like seamen from the waters,From the woods we come,Greeting sisters, wives, and daughters,Angels of our home!

Not for us the measured ringingFrom the village spire,Not for us the Sabbath singingOf the sweet-voiced choir,Ours the old, majestic temple,Where God's brightness shinesDown the dome so grand and ample,Propped by lofty pines!

Through each branch-enwoven skylight,Speaks He in the breeze,As of old beneath the twilightOf lost Eden's trees!For His ear, the inward feelingNeeds no outward tongue;He can see the spirit kneelingWhile the axe is swung.

Heeding truth alone, and turningFrom the false and dim,Lamp of toil or altar burningAre alike to Him.Strike, then, comrades! Trade is waitingOn our rugged toil;Far ships waiting for the freightingOf our woodland spoil.

Ships, whose traffic links these highlands,Bleak and cold, of ours,With the citron-planted islandsOf a clime of flowers;To our frosts the tribute bringingOf eternal heats;In our lap of winter flingingTropic fruits and sweets.

Cheerly, on the axe of labor,Let the sunbeams dance,Better than the flash of sabreOr the gleam of lance!Strike! With every blow is givenFreer sun and sky,And the long-hid earth to heavenLooks, with wondering eye!

Loud behind us grow the murmursOf the age to come;Clang of smiths, and tread of farmers,Bearing harvest home!Here her virgin lap with treasuresShall the green earth fill;Waving wheat and golden maize-earsCrown each beechen hill.

Keep who will the city's alleysTake the smooth-shorn plain';Give to us the cedarn valleys,Rocks and hills of Maine!In our North-land, wild and woody,Let us still have partRugged nurse and mother sturdy,Hold us to thy heart!

Oh, our free hearts beat the warmerFor thy breath of snow;And our tread is all the firmerFor thy rocks below.Freedom, hand in hand with labor,Walketh strong and brave;On the forehead of his neighborNo man writeth Slave!

Lo, the day breaks! old Katahdin'sPine-trees show its fires,While from these dim forest gardensRise their blackened spires.Up, my comrades! up and doing!Manhood's rugged playStill renewing, bravely hewingThrough the world our way!