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LAMENT FOR EDEN, by                    
First Line: I had forgotten hills could loom so tall
Last Line: And propeller blades are turning.


I had forgotten hills could loom so tall
And yet be friendly hills and close at hand
Or that a lake could be a guarding wall
To cloister one within a quiet land,
Where peace awaited him who had inferred
There was no peace, where upward trails essayed
The sky, and where the song of one small bird
Held welcome for a weary renegade.

Pend O'Reille Lake and Horse-Heaven Trail
And Granite Creek Falls and Little Bride's Veil
And Tumble-Down Road for hiking.
Whiskey Rock Lodge and the Lakeview Bay
And a Lookout Point where the rangers stay
And the whitefish schools are striking.

I had forgotten that a cabin door
Could lock out all the world and give a dream
A chance to live, or that a rough-hewn floor
Could cushion tired feet, or candle gleam
Could soothe young eyes that were too old with tears.
I had forgotten how the wind could be
A friendly voice at night to lull the fears
Of one whose bed was laid beneath a tree.

And spangled fawns on the midnight beach
Drink, trembling with fear at a cougar's screech,
While a blood-red moon is gleaming.
And vagrant winds that fret at the sails
As a graybeard guide spins fabulous tales
And a tenderfoot sits dreaming.

I had forgotten waves could make a song
Along the shore -- with liquid melody
Absolve an humble penitent from wrong
And set the shackled soul of dreamer free;
Or that an open fire of pine could warm
Not only hands, but hearts, and build with flames
Unchristened images one dared not form
In towns, where doubting man demanded names.

Abandoned mines where only a bear
Goes browsing around with never a care
For the shattered dreams of miners.
And berry beds where the jaybirds dine
On the scarlet fruit from a burdened vine
And scold at the other diners.

I had forgotten that a man could stand
Apart from men, have cliffs to intercede
His word, yet be content within a land
Where only questing thought fulfilled his need;
Could raise no prayer and yet commune with all
And find the peace denied to thronging men;
And, though alone, could go beyond the pall
Of self and be as one with life again.

The old steamboat and the captain's hail
As he comes to port with the weekly mail
And the roiled water churning ...
Then a blinded fool with a choked-up throat
Is calling farewell and boarding the boat
And propeller blades are turning.





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