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.

Now scantier limits the proud arch confine,
And scarce are seen the prostrate Nile or Rhine;
A read more

Now scantier limits the proud arch confine,
And scarce are seen the prostrate Nile or Rhine;
A small Euphrates thro' the piece is roll'd,
And little eagles wave their wings in gold.

"O Mary, go and call the cattle home,
And call the cattle home,
And call the cattle read more

"O Mary, go and call the cattle home,
And call the cattle home,
And call the cattle home,
Across the sands o' Dee;"
The western wind was wild and dank wi' foam
And all alone went she.

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?

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 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.

In our family, there was no clear line between religion and fly
fishing. We lived at the junction of read more

In our family, there was no clear line between religion and fly
fishing. We lived at the junction of great trout rivers in
western Montana, and our father was a Presbyterian minister and a
fly fisherman who tied his own flies and taught others. He told
us about Christ's disciples being fishermen, and we were to
assume, as my brother and I did, that all first-class fishermen
on the Sea of Galilee were fly fishermen and that John, the
favorite, was a dry-fly fisherman.

Rivers are roads that move and carry us whither we wish to go.
[Fr., Les rivieres sont des chemins read more

Rivers are roads that move and carry us whither we wish to go.
[Fr., Les rivieres sont des chemins qui marchant et qui portent
ou l'on veut aller.]

Montana. It's everything Colorado thinks it is.

Montana. It's everything Colorado thinks it is.