Baker Farm
Sometimes I rambled to pine groves, standing like temples, or
like fleets at sea, full-rigged, h
lig and green and s the Druids would have
forsaken to he cedar wood beyond
Flints Pond, h hoary blue berries,
spiring to stand before Valhe
creeping juniper covers t; or to
se
spruce trees, and toadstools, round tables of the swamp gods, cover
tiful fungi adorn tumps, like
butterflies or sable winkles; whe swamp-pink and
doghe
s folds, and the
wild heir
beauty, and empted by nameless other wild
forbidden fruits, too fair for mortal taste. Instead of calling on
some sc to particular trees, of kinds
he middle
of some pasture, or in ths of a wood or swamp, or on a
op; suche black birch, of which we have some handsome
specimens t in diameter; its cousin, th
its loose golden vest, perfumed like t; the beech, which has
so neat a bole and beautifully liced, perfect in all its
details, of tered specimens, I kno one
small grove of sizable trees left in township, supposed by some
to ed by t ed h
beecs near by; it is o see the silver grain
sparkle is
occidentalis, or false elm, of w one well-grown;
some taller mast of a pine, a sree, or a more perfect
anding like a pagoda in t of the
ion. the shrines I
visited boter.
Once it c I stood in tment of a rainbows