Pebbles and Shells (Hawkes collection)/Song of the Woodsman
SONG OF THE WOODSMAN
I hie me away to the forest oldOn a winter's morn when the air is coldAnd the white snow gleams in the morning sunAnd every twig is a diamond,The trees are' bending beneath the snowThat falls in showers as the cold winds blow,A heavy load bears the evergreenAnd scarce a leaf of the laurel is seen.
With a steady stroke at the tallest oakThe forest ever grows,I'll 1ay it low in the gleaming snowTo music of my blows;Then gaily sing while the woodlands ringWith echoes of the ax,Though the trees are tall I'll conquer them allAnd break their sturdy backs.
I take my stand by the lordly treeThat now hath stood full a century And raised on high its majestic formIn the Summer breeze and the Winter's storm;I measure it with a woodman's eye,Its towering form 'gainst the Winter sky,And choose the spot where the tree must fallWith a deafening crash, at the woodman's call.
With a steady stroke at the tallest oakThe forest ever grows,I'll lay it low in the gleaming snowTo music of my blows;Then gaily sing while the woodlands ringWith echoes of the ax,Though the trees are tall I'll conquer them allAnd break their sturdy backs.
The bright ax gleams as it goes up slowAnd then it falls with a ringing blow,The sharp blade sinks in the tender sapAnd falling chips leave a bleeding gap,And wide and deep grows the woodman's cutAs he hews away at the royal butt,And one by one through the yearly ringsThe bright ax sinks while the woodman sings.
With a steady stroke at the tallest oakThe forest ever grows,I'll lay it low in the gleaming snowTo music of my blows; Then gaily sing while the woodlands ringTo echoes of the ax,Though the trees are tall I'll conquer them allAnd break their sturdy backs.
A squirrel starts from his winter holeWhere he keeps house in a hollow boleAnd views the stranger with curious eyes,(And barks and chirps) as the ax he plies;A snow-bird too from a distant limbFlies down to take a peep at him,And waits and chirps till the lunch hour comes,Then makes a meal on the scattered crumbs.
With a steady stroke at the tallest oakThe forest ever grows,I'll lay it low in the gleaming snowTo music of my blows;Then gaily sing while the woodlands ringTo echoes of the ax.Though the trees are tall I'll conquer them allAnd break their sturdy backs.
And soon the woodsman with cautious eyeWill view the top in the steel-blue skyTo see if the tree has begun to lean,Or if a stir in its twigs are seen;Then comes a quake through the noble tree,As though it writhed at its destiny, And then a creak as the firm wood breaks,And the monarch falls and the firm earth shakes.
With a steady stroke at the tallest oakThe forest ever grows,I'll lay it low in the gleaming snowTo music of my blows;Then gaily sing while the woodlands ringWith echoes of the ax,Though the trees are tall I'll conquer them allAnd break their sturdy backs.