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The forest laments in order that Mr. Gladstone may perspire.
The forest laments in order that Mr. Gladstone may perspire.
The place is all awave with trees,
Limes, myrtles, purple-beaded,
Acacias having drunk the lees
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The place is all awave with trees,
Limes, myrtles, purple-beaded,
Acacias having drunk the lees
Of the night-dew, fain headed,
And wan, grey olive-woods, which seem
The fittest foliage for a dream.
If the clouds be full of rain, they empty themselves upon the
earth: and if the tree fall toward read more
If the clouds be full of rain, they empty themselves upon the
earth: and if the tree fall toward the south, or toward the
north, in the place where the tree falleth, there it shall be.
Stranger, if thou hast learned a truth which needs
No school of long experience, that the world
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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.
On the Big Blackfoot River above the mouth of Belmont Creek the
banks are fringed by large Ponderosa pines. read more
On the Big Blackfoot River above the mouth of Belmont Creek the
banks are fringed by large Ponderosa pines. In the slanting sun
of late afternoon the shadows of great branches reached across
the river, and the trees took the river in their arms.
Some boundless contiguity of shade.
Some boundless contiguity of shade.
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.
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.