The Madison journal. (Tallulah, Madison Parish, La.) 1888-current, 1921-02-26
THE WOODS
BY DOUGLAS MAILOCH
THE LETTER.

T CAN'T tell you. girl. how / love you
il is something the woods never
teach;
/ can lie all the night and think of you,
but l can't put the matter in speech
But it's love like the blue skies above you
that around the whole universe reach.
1t is love that is wide as the arches Of
stars from the east to the west;
1t is love that is long as the marches OF
sunrise to sunset and rest;
1t is love that is strong as the larches
that mount to earth's uttermost
crest.
In the woods we are rougher than others
you know in the parlors of town;
To the wolf and the wild we are brothers,
we are kin to the creatures of brown;
II is long since we crept to our mothers
and slept on our pillows of down.
For we sleep in the huts of the humble
and we live on a sturdier fare:
And the music we hear is the rumble of
thunders of earth and of air
Where the pine and the tamarack tumble
and the pathway of progress pre-
pare
Yet this land is the land of the lover,
the place for love such as mine;
Oh, sweet is the scent of the clover. but
strong is the heart of the pine;
Loves cup in the town bubbles over,
but here 1t is purple as wine.
We live and we love and we labor up
here on a mightier scale:
To the north and the night We are neigh
Dor. we are kin of the star and the
gale;
The lightning IT threats with its sabre,
the northwind it stings with it's hail,
And the heart of the man is made strong
er with the strength of the thing
that he fights,
And the love of his heart is made longer
by the length of the loneliest nights
For the lover whose heart is a-hunger
longs most for a lovers delights.
The fellow away from the city the tricks
of the city forgets:
He can't say the thing that is witty, he
can't breathe his soul in regrets;
He can't say the thing that is pretty to
please the pink ear of coquettes.
For the bigness of life is about him. the
bigness of heaven and star;
Though the city runs onward without
him, forgetting the forest afar,
When he speaks let no cleverness doubt
him, for he speaks of the things as
they are.
And this is the love that bring you, the
love of the man out -of-doors;
And this is the song that i sing you, the
song that the nightingale pours,
The song that the nightingales fling you
from eventide's musical shores.
The shepherd boy carols his meter, and
follows the feet of the herds;
The song of the skylark is fleeter because
of the absence of words;
Is the language of mortals the sweeter,
more sweet than the music of birds?
My lips they may tremble TO say 1t,
however my pulses may beat;
The tale that l tell you may weigh Ii and
find 1t a tale incomplete
But here is my heart, and / lay it, all
voiceless and mute. at your feet.
I can't tell you. girl, the old story, en-
bellished with city-bred lies.
The tale that a planet grown hoary still
hears with the olden surprise
But the night is all starshine and glory
because 1 have looked in your eyes.
The night is all starshine and splendor
up here in the tamarack lands;
The night Is all moonlit and tender be-
cause Of the touch of your hands
And your eyes they may widen with
wonder but know that your heart
understands.
(Copyright)