God pity us indeed, for we are human,And do not always seeThe vision when it comes, the shining change,Or, if we see it, do not follow it,Because it is too hard, too strange, too new,Too unbelievable, too difficult,Warring too much with common, easy ways,And now I know this, standing in this light,Who have been half alive these many years,Brooding on my own sorrow, my own pain,Saying "I am a barren bough. ExpectNor fruit nor blossom from a barren bough."
With careless joy we thread the woodland waysAnd reach her broad domain.Thro' sense of strength and beauty, free as air.We feel our savage kin,And thus alone with conscious meaning wearThe Indian's moccasin!elaine goodale eastman
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