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The woods were made for the hunter of dreams, The brooks for the fishers of song; To the hunters who hunt for the gunless game The streams and the woods belong. There are thoughts that moan from the soul of pine And thoughts in a flower bell curled; And thoughts that are blown with scent of the fern Are as new and as old as the world. - Bloodless Sportsman [Chase] Let me live in my house by the side of the road, Where the race of men go by; They are good, they are bad; they are weak, they are strong, Wise, foolish,--so am I; Then why should I sit in the scorner's seat, Or hurl the cynic's ban? Let me live in my house by the side of the road, And be a friend to man. - House by the Side of the Road [Hospitality] There are hermit souls that live withdrawn In the place of their self-content; There are souls like stars that dwell apart, In a fellowless firmament; There are pioneer souls that blaze their paths Where highways never ran,-- But let me live by the side of the road, And be a friend to man. - House by the Side of the Road [Hospitality] W'en you see a man in woe, Walk right up and say "hullo." Say "hullo" and "how d'ye do," "How's the world a-usin' you?" . . . . W'en you travel through the strange Country t'other side the range, Then the souls you've cheered will know Who you be, an' say "hullo." - Hullo [Humanity] "Oh, ship ahoy!" rang out the cry; "Oh, give us water or we die!" A voice came o'er the waters far, "Just drop your bucket where you are." And then they dipped and drank their fill Of water fresh from mead and hill; And then they knew they sailed upon The broad mouth of the Amazon. - Opportunity [Opportunity] Seek not for fresher founts afar, Just drop your bucket where you are; And while the ship right onward leaps, Uplift it from the exhaustless deeps. Parch not your life with dry despair; The stream of hope flow everywhere-- So under every sky and star, Just drop your bucket where you are. - Opportunity [Opportunity] A hundred thousand men were led By one calf near three centuries dead; They followed still his crooked way And lost a hundred years a day; For thus such reverence is lent To well established precedent. - The Calf-Path [Boston : Precedent] One day through the primeval wood A calf walked home as good calves should; But made a trail all bent askew, A crooked trail as all calves do. . . . . And men two centuries and a half Trod in the footsteps of that calf. - The Calf-Path [Boston : Precedent] Bring me men to match my mountains, Bring me men to match my plains, Men with empires in their purpose, And new eras in their brains. - The Coming American [America]
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