I like trees because they seem more resigned to the way they have
to live than other things do.

I like trees because they seem more resigned to the way they have
to live than other things do.

The groves were God's first temple. Ere man learned
To hew the shaft, and lay the architrave,
read more

The groves were God's first temple. Ere man learned
To hew the shaft, and lay the architrave,
And spread the roof above them,--ere he framed
The lofty vault, to gather and roll back
The sound of anthems; in the darkling wood,
Amidst the cool and silence, he knelt down
And offered to the Mightiest solemn thanks
And supplication.

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.

This is the forest primeval.

This is the forest primeval.

Care is taken that trees do not grow into the sky.
[Ger., Es ist dafur gesorgt, dass die Baume read more

Care is taken that trees do not grow into the sky.
[Ger., Es ist dafur gesorgt, dass die Baume nicht in den Himmel
wachsen.]

No tree in all the grove but has its charms,
Though each its hue peculiar.

No tree in all the grove but has its charms,
Though each its hue peculiar.

It is not growing like a tree
In bulk, doth make man better be;
Or standing long read more

It is not growing like a tree
In bulk, doth make man better be;
Or standing long an oak, three hundred year,
To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sere:
A lily of a day
Is fairer far in May,
Although it falls and die that night--
It was the plant and flower of Light.

I think that I shall never see
A poem as lovely as a tree.
. . . read more

I think that I shall never see
A poem as lovely as a tree.
. . . .
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.