The Changing Forestry
"Foresty? Forest you mean, I know," So the wise stranger says alway.
We alone thus call a grove of trees—name that, unique, survives today.
Trees of all kinds that the prairie's black soil can grow, planted here, took root,
Flourished, and stately and tall became. Birds built their nests in the spreading limbs,
Squirrels and rabbits and small wild things soon made their homes in the protecting shade.
Lovers came to stroll down the winding paths strewn with dry leaves and soft pine-needles.
Bird classes roamed thru its aisles each spring. Violets first shyly crept out here.
Children, also, shouted and ran about; slipped thru holes in the hedges to play,—
Swing on the wild grape-vines and wigwams build,—happy and free in the wood beloved.
We alone thus call a grove of trees—name that, unique, survives today.
Trees of all kinds that the prairie's black soil can grow, planted here, took root,
Flourished, and stately and tall became. Birds built their nests in the spreading limbs,
Squirrels and rabbits and small wild things soon made their homes in the protecting shade.
Lovers came to stroll down the winding paths strewn with dry leaves and soft pine-needles.
Bird classes roamed thru its aisles each spring. Violets first shyly crept out here.
Children, also, shouted and ran about; slipped thru holes in the hedges to play,—
Swing on the wild grape-vines and wigwams build,—happy and free in the wood beloved.
