From the Evening Star, July 3, 1914. By Philander Johnson.
I read about the fishing and I read about the trees.
I read about the scenery all guaranteed to please.
I read about wild nature with its glories and its grace
And packed my grip, determined that I’d go and see the place.
The fish were tired of biting and the trees were not as grand
As those that flourished in our parks and roadways near at hand.
And nature in its wildness seems to love a lot of things
That it provides with various sorts of stickers and of stings.
And yet those printed pages seemed like poetry so fine
And a handsome illustration went with every other line.
No longer will I seek the rolling wave or leafy nook.
I’ll pack my grip again and go back home and read the book.
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