The Woods Were Made For The Hunter

The Woods Were Made For The Hunter Of Dreams...

A Hundred Thousand Men Were Led By One Calf Near Three Centuries Dead; They Followed Still His Crooked Way And Lost A Hundred Years A Day; For Thus Such Reverence Is Lent To Well Established Precedent.

Strew Gladness On The Paths Of Men-you Will Not Pass This Way Again.

One Day Through The Primeval Wood A Calf Walked Home As Good Calves Should; But Made A Trail All Bent Askew, A Crooked Trail As All Calves Do. . . . . And Men Two Centuries And A Half Trod In The Footsteps Of That Calf.

There Are Purple Grapes In The Land Of Git-thare.