Poem sent to Brookline Mass.
March 1980 by E.C. Everett

Far away from streets and cities and the busy marts of men
In an unspoiled country where I long to be again.
'Tis the Land of Stream and Forest where the tall hills meet the sky,
And the lofty pine and balsam mile on mile go marching by.
Close where Nipigon the mighty tears its winding pathway through 
Tangled rocks and sweeping channels
                foaming white and silvery blue.
Singing like a hauty warrior sagas of the days of yore
'Till the hills kneel down to listen, creeping to the very shore
There the wild things roam the forest, the dim trails gently call
Luring me to lonely places, where the mystic shadows fall.
Man! the sun is getting higher and the green is on the trees
And the geese are flying Northward while the honey stealing bees
Are a buzzing 'round to tell me that its time for trekking on.

To my forest camp that nestles close behind the Nipigon.

                            E.C. Everett