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The scarlet of the maples can shake me like a cry,
Of bugles going by.
The scarlet of the maples can shake me like a cry,
Of bugles going by.
I think that I shall never scan
A tree as lovely as a man.
. . . read more
I think that I shall never scan
A tree as lovely as a man.
. . . .
A tree depicts divinest plan,
But God himself lives in a man.
Where is the pride of Summer,--the green prime,--
The many, many leaves all twinkling?--three
On the mossed read more
Where is the pride of Summer,--the green prime,--
The many, many leaves all twinkling?--three
On the mossed elm; three on the naked lime
Trembling,--and one upon the old oak tree!
Where is the Dryad's immortality?
I have seen the wicked in great power, and spreading himself like
a green bay tree.
I have seen the wicked in great power, and spreading himself like
a green bay tree.
You'd scarce expect one of my age
To speak in public on the stage;
And if I read more
You'd scarce expect one of my age
To speak in public on the stage;
And if I chance to fall below
Demosthenes or Cicero,
Don't view me with a critic's eye,
But pass my imperfections by.
Large streams from little fountains flow,
Tall oaks from little acorns grow.
The forest laments in order that Mr. Gladstone may perspire.
The forest laments in order that Mr. Gladstone may perspire.
Plant no other tree before the vine.
[Lat., Nullam vare, sacra vite prius arborem.]
Plant no other tree before the vine.
[Lat., Nullam vare, sacra vite prius arborem.]
The shad-bush, white with flowers,
Brightened the glens; the new leaved butternut
And quivering poplar to the read more
The shad-bush, white with flowers,
Brightened the glens; the new leaved butternut
And quivering poplar to the roving breeze
Gave a balsamic fragrance.
Stranger, if thou hast learned a truth which needs
No school of long experience, that the world
read more
Stranger, if thou hast learned a truth which needs
No school of long experience, that the world
Is full of guilt and misery, and hast seen
Enough of all its sorrows, crimes and cares,
To tire thee of it, enter this wild wood
And view the haunts of Nature. The calm shade
Shall bring a kindred calm, and the sweet breeze
That makes the green leaves dance, shall waft a balm
To thy sick heart.