The fragile bark whereon the Indian traces
Rude tokens of his path for other eyes,
Sometimes outlasts the tree on which he places
Anew the birchen scroll he thence had peeled,
And while he wanders forth to other skies,
Some curious Settler, ere his axe he wield,
The frail memorial careful bears away:—
So I have freely traced a woodland lay,
In lines as quaint as chart of forest child,
Content, like him, if passing on my way,
I cheer some friendly heart in life's dull wild—
A birchen scroll from birchen tree y'cleft,
A trail of moccasin in wildering forest left.