TREES TREES
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.
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
- * * *
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.
Joyce Kilmer It was the noise
Of ancient trees falling while all was still
Before the storm, in the long interval
Between the gathering clouds and that light
breeze
Which Germans call the Wind's bride.
Leland—The Fall of the Trees.
This is the forest primeval.
| author = Longfellow
| work = Evangeline. Introduction.
The tree is known by his fruit.
Matthew. XII. 33.
The gadding vine.
| author = Milton
| work = Lycidas. L. 40.
Cedar, and pine, and fir, and branching palm,
A sylvan scene, and as the ranks ascend
Shade above shade, a woody theatre
Of stateliest view.
Milton-—Paradise Lost.
| place = Bk. IV. L. 139.
g
And all amid them stood the Tree of Life,
High eminent, blooming ambrosial fruit
Of vegetable gold.
MiLTON*-Para<&e Lost. Bk. IV. L. 218.
A pillar'd shade
High over-arch'd, and echoing walks between.
| author = Milton
| work = Paradise Lost.
| place = Bk. LX. L. 1,106.
Woodman, spare that tree!
Touch not a single bough!
In youth it sheltered me,
And I'll protect it now.
George P. Morris—Woodman, Spare That
Tree.
| seealso = (See also {{sc|Campbell)
n When the sappy boughs
Attire themselves with blooms, sweet rudiments
Of future harvest.
John Phillips—Cider. Bk. II. L. 437.
Grove nods at grove.
| author = Pope
| work = Moral Essays. Ep. IV. L. 117.
Spreading himself like a green bay-tree.
Psalms. XXXVII. 35.
The highest and most lofty trees have the
most reason to dread the thunder.
Rolllv—Ancient History. Bk. VI. Ch. II.
Sec. I.
Stultus est qui fructus magnarum arborum
spectat, altitudmem non metitur.
He is a fool who looks at the fruit of lofty
trees, but does not measure their height.
Quintus Curtids Rufus—De Rebus Gestis
Alexandri Magni. VII. 8.
So bright in death I used to say.
So beautiful through frost and cold!
A lovelier thing I know to-day,
The leaf is growing old,
And wears in grace of duty done,
The gold and scarlet of the sun.
Margaret E. Sangster—A Maple Leaf.
Hath not old custom made this life more sweet
Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods
More free from peril than the envious court?
As You Like It. Act II. Sc. 1. L. 2.
But, poor old man, thou prunest a rotten tree,
That cannot so much as a blossom yield
In'lieu of all thy pains and husbandry.
As You Like It. Act II. Sc. 3. L. 63.
Under the greenwood tree
Who loves to lie with me,
And tune his merry note
Unto the sweet bird's throat,
Come hither, come hither, come hither:
No enemy here shall he see,
But winter and rough weather.
As You Like It. Act II. Sc. 5. L. 1.
If aught possess thee from me, it is dross,
Usurping ivy, brier, or idle moss;
Who, all for want of pruning, with intrusion
Infect thy sap and live on thy confusion.
Comedy of Errors. Act II. Sc. 2. L. 179.
Who am no more but as the tops of trees,
Which fence the roots they grow by and defend
them.
Pericles. Act I. Sc. 2. L. 29.
A barren detested vale, you see it is;
The trees, though summer, yet forlorn and lean,
O'ercome with moss and baleful mistletoe.
Titus Andronicus. Act II. Sc. 3. L. 93.
Now all the tree-tops lay asleep,
Like green waves on the sea,
As still as in the silent deep
The ocean-woods may be.
Shelley—The Recollection. II.
Pun-provoking thyme.
Shenstone—The Schoolmistress. St. 11.
The trees were gazing up into the sky,
Their bare arms stretched in prayer for the snows.
Alex. Smith—A Life-Drama. Sc. 2.
{{Hoyt quote
| num = | text = <poem>The laurell, meed of mightie conquerours
And poets sage; the firre that weepeth still; The willow, worne of forlorne paramours; The eugh, obedient to the bender's will; The birch, for shafts; the sallow for the mill; The mirrhe sweete-bleeding in the bitter wound; The warlike beech; the ash for nothing ill; '
