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Welcome the rich borders of rivers, table-lands,
openings,
Welcome the measureless grazing lands—welcome
the teeming soil of orchards, flax, honey, hemp,
Welcome just as much the other more hard-faced
lands,
Lands rich as lands of gold, or wheat and fruit lands,
Lands of mines, lands of the manly and rugged ores,
Lands of coal, copper, lead, tin, zinc,
Lands of Iron! lands of the make of the axe!

4. The log at the wood-pile, the axe supported by it,
The sylvan hut, the vine over the doorway, the space
cleared for a garden,
The irregular tapping of rain down on the leaves,
after the storm is lulled,
The wailing and moaning at intervals, the thought of
the sea,
The thought of ships struck in the storm, and put on
their beam-ends, and the cutting away of masts;
The sentiment of the huge timbers of old-fashioned
houses and barns;
The remembered print or narrative, the voyage at a
venture of men, families, goods,
The disembarkation, the founding of a new city,
The voyage of those who sought a New England and
found it—the outset anywhere,
The settlements of the Arkansas, Colorado, Ottawa,
Willamette,
The slow progress, the scant fare, the axe, rifle,
saddle-bags;
The beauty of all adventurous and daring persons,
The beauty of wood-boys and wood-men, with their
clear untrimmed faces,