Love means going through a forest primeval.

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Our seventh grade teacher made us memorize the prelude of Evangeline - 'This is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks, Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight, Stand like Druids of eld, with voices sad and prophetic, Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on their bosoms. Loud from its rocky caverns, the deep-voiced neighboring ocean Speaks, and in accents disconsolate answers the wail of the forest. This is the forest primeval; but where are the hearts that beneath it Leaped like the roe, when he hears in the woodland the voice of the huntsman Where is the thatch-roofed village, the home of Acadian farmers, Men whose lives glided on like rivers that water the woodlands, Darkened by shadows of earth, but reflecting an image of heaven? Waste are those pleasant farms, and the farmers forever departed! Scattered like dust and leaves, when the mighty blasts of October Seize them, and whirl them aloft, and sprinkle them far o'er the ocean Naught but tradition remains of the beautiful village of Grand-Pré. Ye who believe in affection that hopes, and endures, and is patient, Ye who believe in the beauty and strength of woman's devotion, List to the mournful tradition still sung by the pines of the forest; List to a Tale of Love in Acadie, home of the happy.' Sigh! How could I, I didn't even know what the story was about, till later, when my Grandma recited to me the prelude, by heart. And told me the enduring love of a woman called Evangeline, to her beloved betrothed called Gabriel. Still, I only managed to memorize the first two lines. Remembering now, and appreciating HW Longfellow's poem from a mature perspective. Gosh, a tragic life but a lesson of true love for everyone. Apt for the lovers of the present time, for love has been reduced to signatures on paper. Yes, love means going through a forest primeval. Here's the song of Evangeline.