The forest laments in order that Mr. Gladstone may perspire.

The forest laments in order that Mr. Gladstone may perspire.

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.

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 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.

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.

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.

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.]

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.

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.