THE LETTER
I can’t tell you, girl, how I love you—it is something the woods never teach;I can lie all the night and think of you, but I can’t put the matter in speech—But it’s love like the blue skies above you that around the whole universe reach.It is love that is wide as the arches of stars from the east to the west;It is love that is long as the marches of sunrise to sunset and rest;It is love that is strong as the larches that mount to earth’s uttermost crest.In the woods we are rougher than others you know in the parlors of town;To the wolf and the wild we are brothers, we are kin to the creatures of brown;It is long since we crept to our mothers and slept on our pillows of down.For we sleep in the huts of the humble and we live on a sturdier fare;And the music we hear is the rumble of thunders of earth and of airWhere the pine and the tamarack tumble and the pathway of progress prepare.Yet this land is the land of the lover, the place for a love such as mine;Oh, sweet is the scent of the clover, but strong is the heart of the pine;Love’s cup in the town bubbles over, but here it is purple as wine.We live and we love and we labor up here on a mightier scale;To the north and the night we are neighbor, we are kin of the star and the gale;The lightning it threats with its sabre, the northwind it stings with its hail,And the heart of the man is made stronger with the strength of the thing that he fights,And the love of his heart is made longer by the length of the loneliest nights—For the lover whose heart is a-hunger longs most for a lover’s delights.The fellow away from the city the tricks of the city forgets:He can’t say the thing that is witty, he can’t breathe his soul in regrets;He can’t say the thing that is pretty to please the pink ear of coquettes.For the bigness of life is about him, the bigness of heaven and star;Though the city runs onward without him, forgetting the forest afar,When he speaks let no cleverness doubt him, for he speaks of the things as they are.And this is the love that I bring you, the love of the man out-of-doors;And this is the song that I sing you, the song that the nightingale pours,The song that the nightingales fling you from eventide’s musical shores.The shepherd boy carols his meter, and follow the feet of his herds;The song of the skylark is fleeter because of the absence of words;Is the language of mortals the sweeter, more sweet than the music of birds?My lips they may tremble to say it, however my pulses may beat;The tale that I tell you may weigh it and find it a tale incomplete—But here is my heart, and I lay it, all voiceless and mute, at your feet.I can’t tell you, girl, the old story, embellished with city-bred lies,The tale that a planet grown hoary still hears with the olden surprise—But the night is all starshine and glory because I have looked in your eyes.The night is all starshine and splendor up here in the tamarack lands;The night is all moonlit and tender because of the touch of your hands—And your eyes they may widen with wonder, but I know that your heart understands.
I can’t tell you, girl, how I love you—it is something the woods never teach;I can lie all the night and think of you, but I can’t put the matter in speech—But it’s love like the blue skies above you that around the whole universe reach.It is love that is wide as the arches of stars from the east to the west;It is love that is long as the marches of sunrise to sunset and rest;It is love that is strong as the larches that mount to earth’s uttermost crest.In the woods we are rougher than others you know in the parlors of town;To the wolf and the wild we are brothers, we are kin to the creatures of brown;It is long since we crept to our mothers and slept on our pillows of down.For we sleep in the huts of the humble and we live on a sturdier fare;And the music we hear is the rumble of thunders of earth and of airWhere the pine and the tamarack tumble and the pathway of progress prepare.Yet this land is the land of the lover, the place for a love such as mine;Oh, sweet is the scent of the clover, but strong is the heart of the pine;Love’s cup in the town bubbles over, but here it is purple as wine.We live and we love and we labor up here on a mightier scale;To the north and the night we are neighbor, we are kin of the star and the gale;The lightning it threats with its sabre, the northwind it stings with its hail,And the heart of the man is made stronger with the strength of the thing that he fights,And the love of his heart is made longer by the length of the loneliest nights—For the lover whose heart is a-hunger longs most for a lover’s delights.The fellow away from the city the tricks of the city forgets:He can’t say the thing that is witty, he can’t breathe his soul in regrets;He can’t say the thing that is pretty to please the pink ear of coquettes.For the bigness of life is about him, the bigness of heaven and star;Though the city runs onward without him, forgetting the forest afar,When he speaks let no cleverness doubt him, for he speaks of the things as they are.And this is the love that I bring you, the love of the man out-of-doors;And this is the song that I sing you, the song that the nightingale pours,The song that the nightingales fling you from eventide’s musical shores.The shepherd boy carols his meter, and follow the feet of his herds;The song of the skylark is fleeter because of the absence of words;Is the language of mortals the sweeter, more sweet than the music of birds?My lips they may tremble to say it, however my pulses may beat;The tale that I tell you may weigh it and find it a tale incomplete—But here is my heart, and I lay it, all voiceless and mute, at your feet.I can’t tell you, girl, the old story, embellished with city-bred lies,The tale that a planet grown hoary still hears with the olden surprise—But the night is all starshine and glory because I have looked in your eyes.The night is all starshine and splendor up here in the tamarack lands;The night is all moonlit and tender because of the touch of your hands—And your eyes they may widen with wonder, but I know that your heart understands.
I can’t tell you, girl, how I love you—it is something the woods never teach;I can lie all the night and think of you, but I can’t put the matter in speech—But it’s love like the blue skies above you that around the whole universe reach.
I can’t tell you, girl, how I love you—it is something the woods never teach;
I can lie all the night and think of you, but I can’t put the matter in speech—
But it’s love like the blue skies above you that around the whole universe reach.
It is love that is wide as the arches of stars from the east to the west;It is love that is long as the marches of sunrise to sunset and rest;It is love that is strong as the larches that mount to earth’s uttermost crest.
It is love that is wide as the arches of stars from the east to the west;
It is love that is long as the marches of sunrise to sunset and rest;
It is love that is strong as the larches that mount to earth’s uttermost crest.
In the woods we are rougher than others you know in the parlors of town;To the wolf and the wild we are brothers, we are kin to the creatures of brown;It is long since we crept to our mothers and slept on our pillows of down.
In the woods we are rougher than others you know in the parlors of town;
To the wolf and the wild we are brothers, we are kin to the creatures of brown;
It is long since we crept to our mothers and slept on our pillows of down.
For we sleep in the huts of the humble and we live on a sturdier fare;And the music we hear is the rumble of thunders of earth and of airWhere the pine and the tamarack tumble and the pathway of progress prepare.
For we sleep in the huts of the humble and we live on a sturdier fare;
And the music we hear is the rumble of thunders of earth and of air
Where the pine and the tamarack tumble and the pathway of progress prepare.
Yet this land is the land of the lover, the place for a love such as mine;Oh, sweet is the scent of the clover, but strong is the heart of the pine;Love’s cup in the town bubbles over, but here it is purple as wine.
Yet this land is the land of the lover, the place for a love such as mine;
Oh, sweet is the scent of the clover, but strong is the heart of the pine;
Love’s cup in the town bubbles over, but here it is purple as wine.
We live and we love and we labor up here on a mightier scale;To the north and the night we are neighbor, we are kin of the star and the gale;The lightning it threats with its sabre, the northwind it stings with its hail,
We live and we love and we labor up here on a mightier scale;
To the north and the night we are neighbor, we are kin of the star and the gale;
The lightning it threats with its sabre, the northwind it stings with its hail,
And the heart of the man is made stronger with the strength of the thing that he fights,And the love of his heart is made longer by the length of the loneliest nights—For the lover whose heart is a-hunger longs most for a lover’s delights.
And the heart of the man is made stronger with the strength of the thing that he fights,
And the love of his heart is made longer by the length of the loneliest nights—
For the lover whose heart is a-hunger longs most for a lover’s delights.
The fellow away from the city the tricks of the city forgets:He can’t say the thing that is witty, he can’t breathe his soul in regrets;He can’t say the thing that is pretty to please the pink ear of coquettes.
The fellow away from the city the tricks of the city forgets:
He can’t say the thing that is witty, he can’t breathe his soul in regrets;
He can’t say the thing that is pretty to please the pink ear of coquettes.
For the bigness of life is about him, the bigness of heaven and star;Though the city runs onward without him, forgetting the forest afar,When he speaks let no cleverness doubt him, for he speaks of the things as they are.
For the bigness of life is about him, the bigness of heaven and star;
Though the city runs onward without him, forgetting the forest afar,
When he speaks let no cleverness doubt him, for he speaks of the things as they are.
And this is the love that I bring you, the love of the man out-of-doors;And this is the song that I sing you, the song that the nightingale pours,The song that the nightingales fling you from eventide’s musical shores.
And this is the love that I bring you, the love of the man out-of-doors;
And this is the song that I sing you, the song that the nightingale pours,
The song that the nightingales fling you from eventide’s musical shores.
The shepherd boy carols his meter, and follow the feet of his herds;The song of the skylark is fleeter because of the absence of words;Is the language of mortals the sweeter, more sweet than the music of birds?
The shepherd boy carols his meter, and follow the feet of his herds;
The song of the skylark is fleeter because of the absence of words;
Is the language of mortals the sweeter, more sweet than the music of birds?
My lips they may tremble to say it, however my pulses may beat;The tale that I tell you may weigh it and find it a tale incomplete—But here is my heart, and I lay it, all voiceless and mute, at your feet.
My lips they may tremble to say it, however my pulses may beat;
The tale that I tell you may weigh it and find it a tale incomplete—
But here is my heart, and I lay it, all voiceless and mute, at your feet.
I can’t tell you, girl, the old story, embellished with city-bred lies,The tale that a planet grown hoary still hears with the olden surprise—But the night is all starshine and glory because I have looked in your eyes.
I can’t tell you, girl, the old story, embellished with city-bred lies,
The tale that a planet grown hoary still hears with the olden surprise—
But the night is all starshine and glory because I have looked in your eyes.
The night is all starshine and splendor up here in the tamarack lands;The night is all moonlit and tender because of the touch of your hands—And your eyes they may widen with wonder, but I know that your heart understands.
The night is all starshine and splendor up here in the tamarack lands;
The night is all moonlit and tender because of the touch of your hands—
And your eyes they may widen with wonder, but I know that your heart understands.