In Covert

IN COVERT
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A density of shade among the spruces-
Where fallen twigs e’er crackle ‘neath our trend;
Where aromatic odors greet the senses,
And straying sunbeams filter overhead

A busy scratching on the smooth, brown
neodles- A muffled drumming on some prostrate log:
Loud snaps a branch!-the wild alarm is sounded!
And whirring wings set all the woods agog
-Sarah A Burleigh