Isabella Valancy Crawford,
Old Spookses' Pass, Malcolm's Katie…
“ Max wrought alone, but for a half-breed lad, With tough, lithe sinews and deep Indian eyes, Lit with a Gallic sparkle. Max, the lover, found The labourer's arms grow mightier day by day— More iron-welded as he slew the trees; And with the constant yearning of his heart Towards little Kate, part of a world away, His young soul grew and shew'd a virile front, Full-muscl'd and large statur'd, like his flesh. Soon the great heaps of brush were builded high, And like a victor, Max made pause to clear His battle-field, high strewn with tangl'd dead. ”
