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Once far and wide the unbroken forests spread Their lonely waste, mysterious and dread Forest, whose echoes never had been stirred By the sweet music of an English word; Where only rang the red-browed hunter's yell, And the wolf's howl through the dark sunless dell. Now fruitful fields and waving orchard trees Spread their rich treasures to the summer breeze.
"Pretties' of all!" she cried, and stood, a gentle air stirring her light draperies, until the boys at the empty guns were red-browed and short of breath in their fierce pretence of loading and firing. Suddenly the guns were limbered up and went bounding over the field, caissons in front.
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