“nature setting where New England country stone walls are looked upon as soldiers marching along”

Stone soldiers march through field and hollow,  
Their lichen coats thread dusk and dawn—  
Unflinching ranks the cedars follow,  
Winding miles across mown lawn.  

Mossy epaulettes on granite shoulders,  
They shoulder memory, field by field,  
Where autumn spills her scarlet boulders  
And summer’s golden acres yield.  

Once the backbone of a farmer’s keeping,  
Hewn from earth, set side by side—  
Stubborn granite, never sleeping,  
Guarding furrow, pond, and tide.  

Now in twilight, fox and rabbit  
Pause to honor these gray lines;  
Barred owls echo, stone walls inhabit  
Moonlit duty, proud and fine.  

Oh New England, gently burning  
Where old soldiers mark the land—  
Endless, steadfast, always turning  
Stone to story, hand to hand.

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