cr own readers

THE LmlBE R~[ E N.
10. THE LUMBERMEN.
1. 'Vildly round our woodland quarters
Sad-vo iced autumn grieves,
Thi ckly down these swelling waters
Float his fallen lea ves,
Through the tall and nak ed tim ber,
Column- like and old,
Gleam th e sunsets of November,
From th eir skies of gold.
2, O'er us, to the southward heading,
creams the grey wild-goose ;
O'er th e night-frost sounds th e treading
Of th e br indled moose.
N oiseless creeping, while we're sleeping,
Fr ost his nig ht-work plies;
'oon his icy bridges heaping
Shall our log-piles rise,
3. \Vhen with sounds of smothered thunder,
On some night of rain,
Lak e and river break asund er
Wi nter 's weak ened chain,
Down the wild )Iar ch f100t! sha ll bear them
To the saw-mill's wheel,
On where Steam, th e slave, shall tear them
W ith his teeth of steel.
1. H ere are mossy carpets, bet ter
Than th e Persian weaves,
A nd than Eastern perfume weet-r
...; em th e fallen leaves ;
A nd a music wild and solemn
From th e pine tree's height,
R olls its vast and sea-like volume
On the wind of night ;-