I hail thee, Nessmuk, for the lofty tone <br />Yet simple grace that marks thy poetry! <br />True forester thou art, and still to be, <br />Even in happier fields than thou hast known. <br />Thus, in glad visions, glimpses am I shown <br />Of groves delectable--'preserves' for thee-- <br />Ranged but by friends of thine--I name thee three:-- <br /> <br />First, Chaucer, with his bald old pate new-grown <br />With changeless laurel; next, in Lincoln-green, <br />Gold-belted, bowed and bugled, Robin Hood; <br />And next, Ike Walton, patient and serene: <br />These three, O Nessmuk, gathered hunter-wise, <br />Are camped on hither slopes of Paradise <br />To hail thee first and greet thee, as they should.<br /><br />James Whitcomb Riley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/nessmuk/
