See "THE WOODLANDERS"
Pale beech and pine-tree blue, Set in one clay, Bough to bough cannot you Bide out your day?
When the rains skim and skip, Why mar sweet comradeship, Blighting with poison-drip Neighbourly spray?
Heart-halt and spirit-lame, City-opprest, Unto this wood I came As to a nest;Dreaming that sylvan peace Offered the harrowed ease--Nature a soft release From men's unrest.
But, having entered in, Great growths and small Show them to men akin -Combatants all!
Sycamore shoulders oak, Bines the slim sapling yoke, Ivy-spun halters choke Elms stout and tall.
Touches from ash, O wych, Sting you like scorn!
You, too, brave hollies, twitch Sidelong from thorn.
Even the rank poplars bear Illy a rival's air, Cankering in black despair If overborne.
Since, then, no grace I find Taught me of trees, Turn I back to my kind, Worthy as these.
There at least smiles abound, There discourse trills around, There, now and then, are found Life-loyalties.
1887: 1896.
