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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.
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.
Some boundless contiguity of shade.
Some boundless contiguity of shade.
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.]
Oh, leave this barren spot to me!
Spare, woodman, space the beechen tree!
Oh, leave this barren spot to me!
Spare, woodman, space the beechen tree!
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.
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.]
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.
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?
