Writing about Forest

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'Having walked through the primeval forest, I sadden at its passing yet gladden when I see a smiling farm.

Lost is the sense of noiseless sweet escape,

When the feet tread where quiet shadows drape.

The forest versus the settler and the bushwacker. The needs of man were urgent and a thousand years' growth fell down before the conservationist could call for more thought amid destruction. But the bushwacker was not a vandal; he was another of the great working-class athletes of the colonial days whose right to live was hard earned. The bushwacker loved the bush he was hired to destroy. I have heard him talk of the glories of the forest he cut down.

For each man kills the thing he loves.

How much of life is paradox.'

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