The Beaver

Up in the north if thou sail with me,
A wonderful creature I'll show to thee;
As gentle and mild as a lamb at play,—
Skipping about in the month of May;
Yet wise as any old learned sage
Who sits turning over a musty page!

Come down to the lonely river's bank,
See driven-in stake and riven plank;
'Tis a mighty work before thee stands
That would do no shame to human hands.
A well-built dam to stem the tide
Of this northern river so strong and wide;
Look! the woven bough of many a tree,
And a wall of fairest masonry.
The waters cannot o'erpass this bound,
For a hundred keen eyes watch it round;
And the skill that raised can keep it good
Against the peril of storm and flood.

And yonder the peaceable creatures dwell,
Secure in their watery citadel!
They know no sorrow, have done no sin;
Happy they live 'mong kith and kin,—
As happy as living things can be,
Each in the midst of his family!
Ay, there they live, and the hunter wild
Seeing how they were kind and good,
Hath felt his stubborn soul subdued;
And the very sight of their young at play
Hath put his hunter's heart away;
And a mood of pity hath o'er him crept,
As he thought of his own dear babes and wept.
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