Forest Trees


Children, have you seen the budding

Of the trees in valleys low?

Have you watched it creeping, creeping

Up the mountain, soft and slow?

Weaving there a plush-like mantle,

Brownish, grayish, red-dish green,

Changing, changing, daily, hourly,

Till it smiles in emerald sheen?



Have you watched the shades so varied,

From the graceful, little wh
te birch,

Faint and tender, to the balsam's

Evergreen, so dark and rich?

Have you seen the quaint mosaics

Gracing all the mountain-sides,

Where they, mingling, intertwining,

Sway like softest mid-air tides?







Have you seen the autumn frostings

Spread on all the leafage bright,

Frostings of the rarest colors,

Red and yellow, dark and light?

Have you seen the glory painted

On the mountain, valley, hill,

When the landscape all illumined,

Blazons forth His taste and skill?



Have you seen the foliage dropping,

Tender cling, as loth to leave

Mother-trees that taught them deftly,

All their warp and woof to weave?

Have you seen the leafless branches

Tossing wildly 'gainst the blue?

Have you seen the soft gray beauty

Of their wintry garments' hue?



Have you thought the resurrection

Seen in Nature year by year,

Is a symbol of our rising

In a higher, holier sphere?

Children, ye are buds maturing;

Make your autumn rich and grand,

That your winter be a passage

Through the gates to Glory-land.



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