 | My Sonnets |  |
TREES.
Ye bless the earth with beauty. Laughs not springTo see your emerald leaves peep, from the night
Of their dark, wintry, cells, in to the light
Of the warm, gleaming, sunshine. Trees, you bring,
Over the deserts of far seas, the wing
Of many a sweet-voiced bird, whose weary flight,
From you, was taken ere the snow lay white
Upon your leafless branches. How they sing!
What gushes of delight they pour around,
When once, again, within their summer home,
They smooth their ruffled plumage! Oft the sound
Of your green, murmuring, boughs, the winds, that roam
The wide earth, love to wake. My blessing be
On him who plants upon the earth a tree.
November 18th, 1842.
| My Sonnets | |