OUTCAST, a horror to his kind,
At night he to the forest fled.
There, the birch-bark made fire for him,
The brown fern made a bed.
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The river murmured lullaby, The moisty mosses breathed of balm, The clean stars carried light to him, Unterrified and calm..the y saw the Father's son. a fine poem. tony
They only saw their Father’s son, And brought their brother rest. /// imaginatively written; there the Father's Son- The Holy Spirit