Freckles

we never know the timber of a man's soul until something cuts into him deeply and brings the grain out strong.

The Bird Woman had a fine way of attending strictly to her own business.

he was amazed to learn that in the swamps and forests he had lost his heart and it was calling—forever calling him.

The clear, cool, pungent atmosphere was intoxicating. The intense silence, like that of a great empty cathedral, fascinated him.

square-shouldered man

O wha will be my dearie

The men were calling

Without stopping to think

neighing of the horses

in quest of a lost relative.