Strew Gladness On The Paths Of Men-you

Bring Me Men To Match My Mountains: Bring Me Men To Match My Plains: Men With Empires In Their Purpose And New Eras In Their Brains.

The Woods Were Made For The Hunters Of Dreams, The Brooks For The Fishers Of Song; To The Hunters Who Hunt For The Gunless Game The Streams And The Woods Belong.

There Are Purple Grapes In The Land Of Git-thare.

The Woods Were Made For The Hunter Of Dreams...

The Woods Were Made For The Hunters Of Dreams, The Brooks For The Fisher Of Song; To The Hunters Who Hunt For The Gunless Game The Streams And The Woods Belong. There Are Thoughts That Moan From The Soul Of The Pine And Thoughts In A Flower-bell Curled; And The Thoughts That Are Blown With The Scent Of The Fern Are As New And As Old As The World.