Who knows the dim, least-traveled way

Where wood-folk keep their holiday;

Who knows the paths of little care

Whereon the thicket-dwellers fare,

Let him be heedful, lest he wake

Unfriendly echoes in the brake,

Or dare, with alien thought, to find

His way among the timid kind.

Let him beware, then, for they know

The subtle footsteps of a foe.

But all the wee wood-fellows spare

Such welcome as they ever share

To him who finds in dale and dell

That undefined, familiar spell

That greets the faith prepared to meet

A faith as beautiful and sweet.

—Frank Walcott Hutt.