As I sit by the cheery little blaze,
My thoughts wander to lands unknown,
To trails un-trodden by foot of man.
Beyond civilization, with Nature alone
In the blaze of the campfire,
I see the land of my dreams,
Mayhap a thousand miles away,
Still it looms before me, it seems.
Into the circle of firelight, passes a herd.
Of the king of the forest and his tram.
The antlered bull ever awake, ever alert.
Lest his kingdom be shattered by one with mightier brain.
The hoot of an owl breaks the reverie,
Of the silent brooding night,
And in the shadows of the brush.
Two gleaming eyes show their light.
Soon the flicker of the campfire dies away.
As the silvery moon ascends its throne,
My pipe drops from my mouth to the ground,
And I sigh in repose — another day done.
Walter E. Andrews.
Hunter-Trader-Trapper. October: 1921,
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