 | The music-lesson of Confucius, And Other Poems |  |
94
THE FALL OF THE TREES.
I HAVE been in the wild green wilderness,A wood of many ages, leagues away
From human home, when a tremendous storm
Was giving its long warning in those signs
Which every woodsman knows. We sat in peace
In the canoe dug from a single tree,
Well in the water and far out from shore,
For none at such a time will trust to trees,
Since lightning strikes them when they shelter men;
And as we sat and watched the wide-spread clouds,
I heard from time to time, long miles away,
Deep dull and thundering sounds, like cannon fired
In a ravine, which makes them heavier
And yet prolongs the roar. An awful sound
To one who knew that no artillery
Was in those lonely dales, and that no flash
Had shot as yet from heaven. 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. At such time
The oldest trees go down, no one knows why,
But well I know from wood-experience
That 'tis before the storm they mostly fall,
And not while wind and rain are terrible.
'Tis wonderful, and seen ere every storm:—
Our great old statesmen died before the war.
| The music-lesson of Confucius, And Other Poems | |