The charcoal-burner has tales to tell.
He lives in the Forest,
Alone in the Forest;
He sits in the Forest,
Alone in the Forest.
And the sun comes slanting between the trees,
And the rabbits come up, and they give him good-morning,
And the rabbits come up and say, « Beautiful morning »
And the moon swings clear of the tall black trees,
And the owls fly over and wish him good-night
Quietly over to wish him good-night.
And he sits and thinks of the things they know,
He and the Forest, alone together—
The springs that come and the summers that go,
Autumn dew on bracken and heather,
The drip of the Forest beneath the snow.
All the things they have seen,
All the things they have heard:
An April sky swept clean and the song of a bird.
Oh, the charcoal-burner has tales to tell!
And he lives in the Forest and knows us well.
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