Jean Blewett

(4 November 1872 - 1934 / Scotia, Lake Erie, Ontario)

Men O' The Forest Mark - Poem by Jean Blewett

What we most need is men of worth,
Men o' the forest mark,
Of lofty height and mighty girth
And green, unbroken bark.

Not men whom circumstances
Have stunted, wasted, sapped,
Men fearful of fighting chances,
Clinging to by-paths mapped.

Holding honor and truth below
Promotion, place and pelf;
Weaklings that change as winds do blow,
Lost in their love of self.

Tricksters playing a game unfair
(Count them, sirs, at this hour),
Ready to dance to maddest air
Piped by the man in power.

The need, sore need, of this young land
Is honest men, good sirs,
Men as her oak trees tall and grand,
Staunch as her stalwart firs.

Steadfast, unswerving, first and last,
Fearless of front and strong,
Meeting the challenge of the blast
With high, clear battle song.

Not sapless things of the byways,
Lacking in life and strength,
Not shrivelled shrubs of the highways,
Pigmy of breadth and length,

But noblest growth of God's green earth-
Men o' the forest mark,
Of lofty height and giant girth
And green, unbroken bark.

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, May 8, 2012

Poem Edited: Tuesday, May 8, 2012

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