AN OLD POEM – Robert W. Chambers

Where the slanting forest eaves,

Shingled tight with greenest leaves,

Sweep the scented meadow-sedge,

Let us snoop along the edge;

Let us pry in hidden nooks,

Laden with our nature books,

Scaring birds with happy cries,

Chloroforming butterflies,

Rooting up each woodland plant,

Pinning beetle, fly, and ant,

So we may identify

What we’ve ruined, by-and-by