The Woods Were Made For The Hunter

Where Shall We Get Religion? Beneath The Open Sky, The Sphere Of Crystal Silence Surcharged With Deity.. The Midnight Earth Sends Incense Up, Sweet With The Breath Of Prayer -- Go Out Beneath The Naked Night And Get Religion There.

W'en You See A Man In Woe, Walk Right Up And Say Hullo. Say Hullo And How D'ye Do, How's The World A-usin' You? . W'en You Travel Through The Strange Country T'other Side The Range, Then The Souls You've Cheered Will Know Who You Be, An' Say Hullo.

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.

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.

Seek Not For Fresher Founts Afar, Just Drop Your Bucket Where You Are; And While The Ship Right Onward Leaps, Uplift It From The Exhaustless Deeps. Parch Not Your Life With Dry Despair; The Stream Of Hope Flow Everywhere-- So Under Every Sky And Star, Just Drop Your Bucket Where You Are.