The greatest joy in nature is the absence of man. - Bliss Carman

Here's to the day when it is May
And care as light as a feather,
When your little shoes and my big boots
Go tramping over the heather.

Here’s to the day
That wondrous May,
A-roaming through the heather,
When her little shoes
And my big boots Were out on the hills together. And here’s to the night Of our delight, That held the stars in tether, When her little shoes And my big boots Were under the bed together.

Our fathers died for England at the outposts of the world;
Our mothers toiled for England where the settlers' smoke upcurled;
By packet, steam and rail,
By portage, trek and trail,
They bore a thing called Honour in hearts that did not quail,
Till the twelve great winds of heaven saw the scarlet sign unfurled. And little did they leave us of fame or land or gold;
Yet they gave us great possessions in a heritage untold;
For they said, 'Ye shall be clean,
Nor ever false or mean,
For God and for your country and the honour of your Queen,
Till ye meet the death that waits you with your plighted faith unsold'.