The succulent, wildwood scented, simmering fare,

While with impatient sniffs and eager-eyed

His bronze-limbed children gather to his side.

And, when the feast is done, all take their ease,

Lulled by the sing-song of the evening breeze

And murmuring undertones of many-foliaged trees;

While here and there through rifts of green the sky

Casts its blue glance like an all-seeing eye.

But though by stress of want and poignant need

Man tames the wolf-sprung hound and rearing steed,

Pens up the ram, and yokes the deep-horned ox,

[19]

And through wide pastures shepherds woolly flocks;

Though age by age, through discipline of toil,

Man wring a richer harvest from the soil,

And in the grim and still renewing fight

Slays loathly worms and beasts of gruesome might

By the close-knitted bondage of the clan,

Which adding up the puny strength of man

Makes thousands move with one electric thrill

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