Page:Oregon Historical Quarterly vol. 1.djvu/455

Rh And the ax of the woodman is ringing
 * All day in sylvestrian halls,

Where the chipmunk is playfully springing
 * And the blue-jay discordantly calls;

And the red chips are fitfully flying
 * On the asters that sprinkle the moss;

Where the beauty of summer is dying,
 * And the sun lances glimmer across;

There's a bird that is spectrally knocking,
 * On a pine that is withered and bare,

For the fir-top is trembling and rocking,
 * In the blue of the clear upper air

There's a crackling of fiber the crashing
 * Of a century crushed at a blow,

And the fir-trees are wringing and lashing
 * Their hands in a frenzy of woe!

A pheasant whirs up from the thicket
 * In the hush that comes after the fall,

And the squirrel retires to his wicket,
 * And the bluebird renounces his call;

And the panther lies crouched by the bowlder
 * In the gloom of the canyon anear,

And the brown bear looks over his shoulder,
 * And the buck blows a signal of fear;

But there's never a pause in your duty,
 * And the echoing ax is not still

As you waste with the green temples of beauty
 * For the puncheon and rafter and sill

That are wrought in a cabin so lowly
 * The trees will clasp hands over head,

But the heart calls it home, and the holy
 * Love-lights on its hearthstone are shed.

It is staunch and rough-hewn, and the ceiling
 * Of the fragrant red cedar is made,

With an edging of silver revealing
 * A picture of sunlight and shade.

And the Word has its place, not a trifle
 * Obscured in a pageant of books,

And above the broad mantle your rifle
 * Is hung on accessible hooks.

Oh, the freshness of hope and of fancy
 * That illumines the home and the heart,

With the grace of a bright necromancy
 * That excels the adorning of art!

And you rise and look forth and the glory
 * Of Hood is before you again,

And the sun weaves a gold-threaded story
 * In the purple of mountain and glen.

Stand up, and look out from the mansion
 * That adorns the old scene of the past

On the fruitage of hope the expansion
 * Of the fruits of your vigils forecast!