And in the mountains, with the other boys,
I made a home I carried on my back
Away from all the bustling city’s noise.
We'd walk for fifty miles before we came
Again to plumbing and electric light.
By night we lounged around an open flame,
By day enjoyed the panoramic sight
Of places no one else had ever been—
At least they seemed untouched by human hands.
Our trial in the mountains made us men,
And still we dream most fondly of those lands.
But nothing was so sweet as were our beds
When in the end those pillows met our heads.