• 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.

    Sam Walter Foss: 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.