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.

— Sam Walter Foss


6 responses »

  1. Renard Moreau says:

    [ Smiles ] Those are great photographs!

  2. Chanda jane says:

    I love this one mom! i remember that day:)

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