With careless joy we thread the woodland ways And reach her broad domain. Thro' sense of strength and beauty, free as air. We feel our savage kin, And thus alone with conscious meaning wear The Indian's moccasin!
The seal and guerdon of wealth untold We clasp in the wild marsh marigold.
The starry, fragile windflower, Poised above in airy grace, Virgin white, suffused with blushes, Shyly droops her lovely face.
Pure and perfect, sweet arbutus Twines her rosy-tinted wreath.