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.