Trees and Tree-planting: With Exercises and Directions for the Celebration of Arbor Day

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Published under the auspices of the Ohio state forestry association, 1884 - Arbor Day - 64 pages
 

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Page 45 - THE groves were God's first temples. Ere man learned To hew the shaft, and lay the architrave. And spread the roof above them, — ere he framed The lofty vault, to gather and roll back The sound of anthems ; in the darkling wood, Amidst the cool and silence, he knelt down, And offered to the Mightiest solemn thanks And supplication.
Page 48 - And, when the sun begins to fling His flaring beams, me, goddess, bring To arched walks of twilight groves, And shadows brown, that Sylvan loves...
Page 59 - Twelve years have elapsed since I last took a view Of my favourite field, and the bank where they grew ; And now in the grass behold they are laid, And the tree is my seat that once lent me a shade. The blackbird has fled to another retreat, Where the hazels afford him a screen from the heat...
Page 57 - Oh, spare that aged oak Now towering to the skies! When but an idle boy, I sought its grateful shade; In all their gushing joy Here, too, my sisters played. My mother kissed me here; My father pressed my hand— Forgive this foolish tear, But let that old oak stand. My heart-strings round thee cling, Close as thy bark, old friend! Here shall the wild-bird sing, And still thy branches bend. Old tree! the storm still brave! And, woodman, leave the spot; While I've a hand to save, Thy axe shall harm...
Page 57 - Woodman, spare that tree ! Touch not a single bough ! In youth it sheltered me, And I'll protect it now.
Page 60 - Time made thee what thou wast, king of the woods ; And Time hath made thee what thou art — a cave For owls to roost in.
Page 55 - A prayer-book now shall be my looking-glass, In which I will adore sweet virtue's face. Here dwell no hateful looks, no palace cares, No broken vows dwell here, nor pale-faced fears...
Page 61 - Hail, old patrician trees, so great and good! Hail, ye plebeian under-wood ! Where the poetic birds rejoice, And for their quiet nests and plenteous food Pay, with their grateful voice. Hail, the poor Muses...
Page 61 - The Laurell, meed of mightie Conquerours And Poets sage ; the Firre that weepeth still : The Willow, worne of forlorne Paramours ; The Eugh...
Page 59 - I care not how men trace their ancestry, To ape or Adam ; let them please their whim ; But I in June am midway to believe A tree among my far progenitors, Such sympathy is mine with all the race, Such mutual recognition vaguely sweet There is between us.

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