Theodore Roosevelt (1858–1919). A Book-Lover’s Holidays in the Open. 1916.


  • COME away! Come away! There’s a frost along the marshes,
  • And a frozen wind that skims the shoal where it shakes the dead black water;
  • There’s a moan across the lowland and a wailing through the woodland
  • Of a dirge that seeks to send us back to the arms of those that love us
  • ……..
  • Come away! come away!—or the roving fiend will hold us,
  • And make us all to dwell with him to the end of human faring.