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READERS OF LOAM
And where the chokecherry blossoms drip a fragranceUpon the air, a grizzly bear came shuffling.Here, in the patch of adder's-tongue, he clawedThe earth for succulence; there he sniffed,And tunneled to a nest of meadow-mice;Yonder he sprawled upon the bank, to drink,To paw the honey-bees, to contemplateThe blue-finned grayling gliding in the pool. . . .
Oh, there will come a day, when some sharp eyeWill fall upon this range, and mark this pool,When some keen reader of the great green BookWill come on footprints in the Loam and say:
Out of a land of alkali and sage-brush,Fevered of lip, he staggered to these hills,Pursued by desert wolves who had no spineTo snarl their jaws at him, save in a pack.And here upon the thick wet mountain-mossHe flung himself to rest among the brookmintsCool with the dew, to dream a little, to drinkThe cold green wine of earth; and in the eveningHe stood upon his legs again, refreshed.
