<h2><SPAN name="XIX" id="XIX"></SPAN>XIX</h2>
<p class="caption">TO A TRESPASS SIGN</p>
<p>Scene, <i>A Wood. An old man with a fishing-rod speaks</i>:—</p>
<p>What strange object is this which I
behold, incongruous in its staring whiteness
of fresh paint and black lettering,
its straightness of lines and abrupt irregularity
amid the soft tints and graceful
curves of this sylvan scene? As I live,
a trespass sign!</p>
<p>Thou inanimate yet most impertinent
thing, dumb yet commanding me with
most imperative words to depart hence,
how dost thou dare forbid my entrance
upon what has so long been my own,
even as it is the birds' and beasts' and
fishes', not by lease or title deed, but
of natural right? Hither from time immemorial
have they come at will and so
departed at no man's behest, as have I
since the happy days when a barefoot
boy I cast my worm-baited hook among<span class="pagenum">[85]</span>
the crystal foam bells, or bearing the
heavy burden of my grandsire's rusty
flint-lock, I stalked the wily grouse in
the diurnal twilight of these thickets.</p>
<p>Here was I thrilled by the capture of
my first trout; here exulted over the
downfall of my first woodcock; here,
grown to man's estate, I learned to cast
the fly; here beheld my first dog draw
on his game, and here, year after year,
till my locks have grown gray, have I
come, sharp set with months of longing,
to live again for a little while the carefree
days of youth.</p>
<p>Never have I been bidden to depart
but by storm or nightfall or satiety, until
now thou confrontest me with thy impudent
mandate, thou, thou contemptible,
but yet not to be despised nor unheeded
parallelogram of painted deal, with thy
legal phrases and impending penalties;
thou, the silent yet terribly impressive
representative of men whose purses are
longer than mine!</p>
<p>What is their right to this stream, these
woods, compared with mine? Theirs
is only gained by purchase, confirmed by
scrawled parchment, signed and sealed;<span class="pagenum">[86]</span>
mine a birthright, as always I hoped it
might be of my sons and my sons' sons.
What to the usurpers of our rights are
these woods and waters but a place for
the killing of game and fish? They do
not love, as a man the roof-tree where-under
he was born, these arches and low
aisles of the woods; they do not know as
I do every silver loop of the brook, every
tree whose quivering reflection throbs
across its eddies; its voice is only babble
to their ears, the song of the pines tells
them no story of bygone years.</p>
<p>Of all comers here, I who expected
most kindly welcome am most inhospitably
treated. All my old familiars, the
birds, the beasts, and the fishes, may fly
over thee, walk beneath thee, swim
around thee, but to me thou art a wall
that I may not pass.</p>
<p>I despise thee and spit upon thee, thou
most impudent intruder, thou insolent
sentinel, thou odious monument of selfishness,
but I dare not lay hands upon
thee and cast thee down and trample
thee in the dust of the earth as thou
shouldst of right be entreated. To rid
myself of thy hateful sight, I can only<span class="pagenum">[87]</span>
turn my back upon thee and depart with
sorrow and anger in my heart.</p>
<p>Mayst thou keep nothing but disappointment
for the greedy wretches who
set thee here.<span class="pagenum">[88]</span></p>
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