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Description
Nature tells its own stories and speaks its own rhymes,
               Crafts its own  images and engraves,
              Sets out the pieces for its own mosaics.
   She is the playmate of man our
                        Nursemaid and companion; she is one who walks beside.
Nothing is as obscure as the falling of golden leaves,
            Nothing as clear as the crunch of pinestraw under boot—

Poet and hunter will read the signs of wind and passion,
    Mark quarries and try to guess the movements of others
            Who are not him. Poet and hunter alike in small room
  Guessing what the cellmates beside him will do, playing the game with
     Nature who speaks nothing aloud.
                     And so he reads signs and faces, looks to the bark and
     Listens to the wind and follows the tracks and records what can be
Discerned from the whispering almost of the wind and the
           Passing smiles of women and children, the look of terror in the eye of
Age and the flush of desire in the cheeks of the maid and groom, the
      Closed eyes of death and warm hands of Godly charity—

Hunter and poet, with same tasks
  Reading and testing and knowing the world.

Description
Nature tells its own stories and speaks its own rhymes,
               Crafts its own  images and engraves,
              Sets out the pieces for its own mosaics.
   She is the playmate of man our
                        Nursemaid and companion; she is one who walks beside.
Nothing is as obscure as the falling of golden leaves,
            Nothing as clear as the crunch of pinestraw under boot—

Poet and hunter will read the signs of wind and passion,
    Mark quarries and try to guess the movements of others
            Who are not him. Poet and hunter alike in small room
  Guessing what the cellmates beside him will do, playing the game with
     Nature who speaks nothing aloud.
                     And so he reads signs and faces, looks to the bark and
     Listens to the wind and follows the tracks and records what can be
Discerned from the whispering almost of the wind and the
           Passing smiles of women and children, the look of terror in the eye of
Age and the flush of desire in the cheeks of the maid and groom, the
      Closed eyes of death and warm hands of Godly charity—

Hunter and poet, with same tasks
  Reading and testing and knowing the world.