R[ichard] W[atson] Gilder
And out with your compass!"(By the way -'t was Thoreau's In the good long-agoes,) And then, in a trice, Where the quartz glistens white, Smooth as ice, In the clear slanting light The fine striae show,-Like arrows they go,-North-west to south-east Just as John Muir pleased!—And as he spoke I saw the huge creature glide With speed that scarcely lessened or increased Prom the far pole to ocean's melting tide. Through countless boreal hours It moved on its torn pathway deep and wide; Its gelid bulk I saw Crunching the mountain tops with monstrous maw;-To make our Four Brooks Farm with all its flocks and flowers.R. W. GilderFall of 1898.
Original letter dimensions: 26.5 x 20.5 cm.
Reel 10, Image 1063
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