THE THORN TREE The night is sad with silver and the day is glad with gold, Whom the sleepy leaves still whisper men shall never see again; There's a thorn tree in the forest, and the faeries know the tree, How she charmed him and enchanted in the thorn-tree's thorns to lie Forever with his passion that should never dim or die: And with wicked laughter looking on this thing which she had done, Like a visible aroma lingered sparkling in the sun: How she stopped to kiss the pathos of an elf-lock of his beard, In a mockery of parting and mock pity of his weird; But her magic had forgotten that "who bends to give a kiss Madison Cawein. YEW TREES There is a Yew-tree, pride of Lorton Vale, To Scotland's heaths; or those that crossed the sea Of vast circumference and gloom profound To be destroyed. But worthier still of note Up-coiling, and inveterately convolved; Of boughs, as if for festal purpose, decked With unrejoicing berries-ghostly Shapes May meet at noontide; Fear and trembling Hope, William Wordsworth. THE OAK IS STRONG The oak is strong that spreads its arms on Taurus' summit high, And the great pine with oozing bark and cones against the sky; But let some conquering whirlwind come, borne onward in its wrath, It tears them up with all their roots, and sweeps them from its path; Prone do they fall, and downward drag all growth both far and near: So fall the mighty ones of earth, no more we see them here. Catullus. |