 | The Poems of Selwyn Image |  |
63
CHRISTMAS MDCCCCXI
To a Forest Lover
An Oak—a youngling as the great Oaks deem,
That from majestic boles not far off rear
Their vigorous branches stout almost as he—
Stands at the Forest's verge: a Page, may be,
To usher us from out the garish gleam
That from majestic boles not far off rear
Their vigorous branches stout almost as he—
Stands at the Forest's verge: a Page, may be,
To usher us from out the garish gleam
Of the bare upland, which the full sun rakes,
Within their sheltering greenness. Many a day
Distraught—ah! yes, and to the very core
Of the tired brain—by London's hustling roar
Of endless controversy, see, one takes
Within their sheltering greenness. Many a day
Distraught—ah! yes, and to the very core
Of the tired brain—by London's hustling roar
Of endless controversy, see, one takes
Thither his way: and as his eager sight
Catches first glimpse of yon sweet stripling tree
Swifter he steps. Laugh! but I've known him press
His lips against it in a brief caress,
Soon as his feet beside it should alight.
Catches first glimpse of yon sweet stripling tree
Swifter he steps. Laugh! but I've known him press
His lips against it in a brief caress,
Soon as his feet beside it should alight.
For, O dear Mother Nature, are not all
Thy children one creation? The shy birds,
The furry beasts, these flowering weeds, the trees,
The countless faery lives that take the breeze
With radiant wings and murmurings musical—
Thy children one creation? The shy birds,
The furry beasts, these flowering weeds, the trees,
The countless faery lives that take the breeze
With radiant wings and murmurings musical—
All, all do furnish this rare woodland home,
Ordained of thee to soothe with magic touch
Minds overwrought and fevered by the strain
Of the world's senseless strife, cleansing the stain
From off our toil-grimed spirits, as we roam
Ordained of thee to soothe with magic touch
Minds overwrought and fevered by the strain
Of the world's senseless strife, cleansing the stain
From off our toil-grimed spirits, as we roam
Consoled by such dear comradeship!
1911.
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