Campfires, Cabins, and Woods

This morning I am headed off to camp. Every year (since my 7th. grade year) my school has held a camp the first week of school as a time of fellowship, fun, and generally getting all hot and bothered. But the basic premise is that you are all getting all hot and bothered, soaked by the occasional summer rainshower, etc. etc. etc. together. It gives the kids a chance to get to know each other and their teachers in a way that would not be possible simply sitting in a classroom. So, I am going as a counselor for the 7th. grade girls and am looking forward to it.


And so, I leave you with another poem from my little book.


The Song of the Children
by G.K. Chesterton


The World is ours till sunset,
Holly and fire and snow;
And the name of our dead bother
Who loved us long ago.


The grown folk mighty and cunning,
They write his name in gold
But we can tell a little
Of the million tales he told.


He taught them laws and watchwords,
To preach and struggle and pray;
But he taught us deep in the hayfield
The games that angels play.


Had he stayed here for ever.
Their world would be wise as ours -
And the king be cutting the capers
And the priest be picking flowers.


But the dark day came: they gathered:
On their faces we could see
They had taken and slain our brother,
And hanged him on a tree.