Transcription:
2 longingly back into that blessed old Hollow among the hemlocks hoping to revisit it, I believe I shall yet. Indeed I feel
quite sentimental about it, it was so full of trees mosses liverworts wild life of so many kinds, its far reaching associations
I could almost sing with Johnnie Boyce O how I love the sawmill I remember nearly all of that immortal poem. In the last verse
mechanics religion were curiously mixed, both sense rhyme went a trifle wrong, faith not uncommon in older poets. Here it
is It was God who made the sawmill That stands beside the stream I hope to go to Him when I die And in his kingdom reign
But if I allow myself to wander