OUTDOORS the poem by Frank Oastler for the Canadian Camp 1922

From the Canadian Camp Menu , 1922

Poem by: Frank H. Oastler M.D.

Dedicated to the Canadian Camp

“Outdoors”

Oh, give me a bit of the great outdoors

Is all that I ask of you,

Where I may do whatever I like

And like whatever I do.

Where the sky is the boundary up above

And the earth is the measure below,

And the trail starts on where the sun comes up

And ends where the sun sinks low.

Where the wind blows sweet as a baby’s breath,

And the sun shines bright as its eyes,

And the showers come and the showers go

As the tears when the little one cries.

And the brook runs merrily through the glade,

Singing its gladdening song,

And the pine trees murmur their soothing sighs,

Still bearing that song along.

Yes, carry me back to the lake’s white shores,

With its deer and its lily pad,

Where the loon calls out ‘mid the moonbeams bright

Through the mist on the waters sad.

Let me hear once more the elk’s far cry

As it sweeps through the forest deep,

Where silence hangs as over the dead

At rest in eternal sleep.

I’ll pitch my tent by some lonesome pine,

By the rippling water’s edge,

With the great outdoors as my garden,

And the willows ‘round as my hedge.

And, surrounded by pretty flowers

That perfume the gentle breeze,

I’ll idle away the whole long day

In the shade of my old pine trees.

And I’ll watch on yonder mountain

The colors change with the day,

And I’ll follow each shadow a-creeping

So silently over the way.

And then give thanks to the God above

And in gratitude I’ll pause,

And I’ll love, not hate, each care that comes

In that great big home – Outdoors.