 | The British Months |  |
Fresh foliage of Firs. Scotch Firs among other trees. Variety of tints on forest-trees. Beech, Elm, Birch, Lime, Alder, Maple, Willow
Tipt with a russet film, that wraps
The tender shoot in conelike caps,
From every branch and branchlet's end
And upright head the Fir-trees send
Their fanlike leaves of vivid die,
Mocking their elder progeny.
While on the mountain's sloping face,
'Mong hardier Pines of Scottish race,
Fresh-sprouting trees their boughs adorn
With leaves gay-smiling, as in scorn
Of those that still maintain their hue
Unchang'd of dun and dingy blue,
'Mid the bright produce of the year;
Unlike as mourners might appear,
In weeds of melancholy drest,
At natal or at nuptial feast.
The tender shoot in conelike caps,
169
And upright head the Fir-trees send
Their fanlike leaves of vivid die,
Mocking their elder progeny.
While on the mountain's sloping face,
'Mong hardier Pines of Scottish race,
Fresh-sprouting trees their boughs adorn
With leaves gay-smiling, as in scorn
Of those that still maintain their hue
Unchang'd of dun and dingy blue,
'Mid the bright produce of the year;
Unlike as mourners might appear,
In weeds of melancholy drest,
At natal or at nuptial feast.
For, lo! by May's light touch are seen
Colour'd with varied tints of green,
Now deep and dark, now pale and light,
Now almost fading into white,
Now heighten'd to a mellower shade
Of yellow bright or russet red,
The offsprings of the woodland realm!
The glossy Beech, the rougher Elm,
The waving Birch's silvery bark,
And pallid Lime, and Alder dark,
Maple and Willow's countless race,
Which cloth'd their forms with chequer'd grace
Of leafy garb before, have now
From stem to crown, each branch and bough,
Light twig, and open'd spray array'd
With depth and plenitude of shade.
Colour'd with varied tints of green,
Now deep and dark, now pale and light,
Now almost fading into white,
Now heighten'd to a mellower shade
Of yellow bright or russet red,
The offsprings of the woodland realm!
The glossy Beech, the rougher Elm,
The waving Birch's silvery bark,
And pallid Lime, and Alder dark,
Maple and Willow's countless race,
Which cloth'd their forms with chequer'd grace
Of leafy garb before, have now
From stem to crown, each branch and bough,
Light twig, and open'd spray array'd
With depth and plenitude of shade.
| The British Months | |