AMONG MY TREES
Hail, thou hundred-handed pine,
Swaying with a grace divine,
Light and heat and air receiving,
Beauty and soft fragrance giving.
Teach us music, songful birds,
With your seconds and your thirds;
Melodies intangible,
From past times infrangible;
You could tell us if you dared,
If you only knew we cared;
Handing down the mystery
Of timeless human history
That unwritten never was,
Never told its end or cause.
By Julia Ward Howe