Trees

"It’s hard to see the forest when you’re a tree."

"He who saves an ancient tree does better even than he who plants a new one."

"A birch tree doesn't feel cosmic fulfillment when a moose munches its leaves; the tree species, in fact, evolves to fight the moose, to keep the animal's munching lips away from vulnerable young leaves and twigs. In the final analysis, the merciless hand of natural selection will favor the birch genes that make the tree less and less palatable to the moose in generation after generation. No plant species could survive for long by offering itself as unprotected fodder."

"A fool sees not the same tree that a wise man sees."

"The tree which moves some to tears of joy is in the eyes of others only a green thing that stands in the way. Some see Nature all ridicule and deformity, and some scarce see Nature at all. But to the eyes of the man of imagination, Nature is Imagination itself."

"Lo que soñó la tierra/es visible en el árbol."

"I like trees because they seem more resigned to the way they have to live than other things do."

"As by the way of innuendo Lucus is made a non lucendo."

"No tree in all the grove but has its charms, Though each its hue peculiar."

"Some boundless contiguity of shade."

"O, the mulberry-tree is of trees the queen! Bare long after the rest are green; But as time steals onwards, while none perceives Slowly she clothes herself with leaves — Hides her fruit under them, hard to find. ***** But by and by, when the flowers grow few And the fruits are dwindling and small to view — Out she comes in her matron grace With the purple myriads of her race; Pull of plenty from root to crown, Showering plenty her feet adown. While far over head hang gorgeously Large luscious berries of sanguine dye, For the best grows highest, always highest, Upon the mulberry-tree."

"He that planteth a tree is the servant of God, He provideth a kindness for many generations, And faces that he hath not seen shall bless him."

"All religions, arts and sciences are branches of the same tree. All these aspirations are directed toward ennobling man's life, lifting it from the sphere of mere physical existence and leading the individual towards freedom."

"Observe and see how (in the winter) all the trees seem as though they had withered and shed all their leaves, except fourteen trees, which do not lose their foliage but retain the old foliage from two to three years till the new comes."

"When iron was found, the trees began to tremble, but the iron reassured them: 'Let no handle made from you enter into anything made from me, and I shall be powerless to injure you.'"

"What do religion, trees, and truth have in common? All are firmly rooted on the ground, as opposite to fantasies and unfounded beliefs that, so to speak, fly in the air."

"If you love me, be patient. Look at the trees. Are they in a hurry to ripen their fruit?"

"The entire Earth, with her trees and her waters, with her animals, with her men and her gods, calls from within your breast. Earth rises up in your brains and sees her entire body for the first time."

"Every man has his own circle composed of trees, animals, men, ideas, and he is in duty bound to save this circle. He, and no one else. If he does not save it, he cannot be saved. These are the labors each man is given and is in duty bound to complete before he dies. He may not otherwise be saved. For his own soul is scattered and enslaved in these things about him, in trees, in animals, in men, in ideas, and it is his own soul he saves by completing these labors."

"From the acorn, quickly sprouting, Mighty Tursas, tall and hardy, Grows the oak-tree, tall and stately, Pressed compactly all the grasses, From the ground enriched by ashes, That the maidens had been raking, Newly raked by water-maidens; When a fire within them kindles, Spread the oak-tree's many branches, And the flames shot up to heaven, Rounds itself a broad corona, Till the windrows burned to ashes, Raises it above the storm-clouds; Only ashes now remaining Far it stretches out its branches, Of the grasses raked together. Stops the white-clouds in their courses, In the ashes of the windrows, With its branches hides the sunlight, Tender leaves the giant places, With its many leaves, the moonbeams, In the leaves he plants an acorn, And the starlight dies in heaven."

"Earlier this year in , I got to visit the oldest tree on the planet. It’s a giant ', southern cousin to California’s s, that was recently dated at 5400 years old. The Chilean National Park Service is taking good care of this elder, only allowing a handful of visitors each week (you make your appointment with the tree online), and it’s quite a hike to get there. When I reached its feet, I burst into tears. No human thoughts are appropriate to existence on that scale. I could only picture fires and earthquakes and and empires rising and collapsing, so much noise, while that tree has stood quietly in its . I’m still vibrating from my communion with this giant life. Survival on that order can help you believe in a future."

"Trees — especially old trees — have a strong and definite individuality, well worthy the name of a soul. This soul, though temporary, in the sense that it is not yet a reincarnating entity, is nevertheless possessed of considerable power and intelligence along its own lines. It has decided likes and dislikes, and to clairvoyant sight it shows quite clearly by a vivid rosy flush an emphatic enjoyment of the sunlight and the rain, and distinct pleasure also in the presence of those whom it has learnt to like, or with whom it has sympathetic vibrations. Emerson appears to have realised this, for he is quoted in Hutton’s Reminiscences as saying of his trees: "I am sure they miss me ; they seem to droop when I go away, and I know they brighten and bloom when I go back to them and shake hands with their lower branches.”"

"Cedar, and pine, and fir, and branching palm, A sylvan scene, and as the ranks ascend Shade above shade, a woody theatre Of stateliest view."

"And all amid them stood the Tree of Life, High eminent, blooming ambrosial fruit Of vegetable gold."

"A pillar'd shade High over-arch'd, and echoing walks between."

"It's interesting, isn't it? There are many stories about trees giving curses (Tatari) in the Western part of Japan. Such folklore, or something that goes back to our distant memories, remains strongly in Japanese culture. People on Yakushima Island didn't cut the trees. They thought that cutting trees would bring about a curse. Trees are beings that make us feel that way. I learned it when I went to Yakushima. When they decided to cut and sell trees because they were too poor to eat, there was a monk who recommended cutting the trees. It was not the case that they started cutting tress because a certain person happened to be on the island and said so, but rather to do with the changes in the society itself."

"I think that I shall never see A billboard lovely as a tree. Perhaps, unless the billboards fall, I'll never see a tree at all."

"Perhaps you see big trees and little trees and think that big trees are older than little trees. You also might notice that there are more little trees than big trees, and so not every little tree grows up to be a big tree – most die young. But the little trees must come from somewhere, namely seeds produced and shed by the bigger trees. These are the core ideas of population ecology."

"Haunted trees covered behind the curtains of their own leaves stare at the dark from the fringe of streets."

"Tree does not live in fragments. till it fall, it stand by life in its own embrace."

"Trees do not seek to get beyond where their roots meet they never dream of flying, their roots in the air."

"All trees and birds sky and stars bosoms and bangles were seeing everything."

"Grove nods at grove."

"I knew a parson who frightened his congregation terribly by telling them that the second coming was very imminent indeed, but they were much consoled when they found that he was planting trees in his garden."

"Build your nest upon no tree here, for ye see that God hath sold the forest to death."

"Mister!" he said with a sawdusty sneeze. "I am the Lorax. I speak for the trees. I speak for the trees, for the trees have no tongues. And I'm asking you, sir, at the top of my lungs"

"Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court?"

"But, poor old man, thou prunest a rotten tree, That cannot so much as a blossom yield In lieu of all thy pains and husbandry."

"Under the greenwood tree Who loves to lie with me, And tune his merry note Unto the sweet bird's throat, Come hither, come hither, come hither: No enemy here shall he see, But winter and rough weather."

"If aught possess thee from me, it is dross, Usurping ivy, brier, or idle moss; Who, all for want of pruning, with intrusion Infect thy sap and live on thy confusion."

"Who am no more but as the tops of trees, Which fence the roots they grow by and defend them."

"A barren detested vale, you see it is; The trees, though summer, yet forlorn and lean, O'ercome with moss and baleful mistletoe."

"The laurell, meed of mightie conquerours And poets sage; the firre that weepeth still; The willow, worne of forlorne paramours; The eugh, obedient to the bender's will; The birch, for shafts; the sallow for the mill; The mirrhe sweete-bleeding in the bitter wound; The warlike beech; the ash for nothing ill; The fruitfull olive; and the platane round; The carver holme; the maple seldom inward sound."

"It is not so much for its beauty that the forest makes a claim upon men's hearts, as for that subtle something, that quality of air that emanates from old trees, that so wonderfully changes and renews a weary spirit."

"We, the trees. Our roots run all the way down to the heart of the earth, and we can feel the beat of her pulse. We inhale her breath. We taste her flesh. We live and die in the exact same spot, never moving from the land we occupy. Both prisoners and conquerors of time, we stand riveted to the ground yet soaring upward, reaching for the clouds. We adapt to all weathers, rain or shine, hurricanes or the dry harmattan winds. Our crowns merge with the sky's cotton-wool dreams. We are the link between Man and his past, his present, and his unpredictable future."

"The woods are hush'd, their music is no more; The leaf is dead, the yearning past away; New leaf, new life—the days of frost are o'er; New life, new love, to suit the newer day: New loves are sweet as those that went before: Free love—free field—we love but while we may."

"Now rings the woodland loud and long, The distance takes a lovelier hue, And drowned in yonder living blue The lark becomes a sightless song."

"Or ruminate in the contiguous shade."

"Welcome, ye shades! ye bowery Thickets hail! Ye lofty Pines! ye venerable Oaks! Ye Ashes wild, resounding o'er the steep! Delicious is your shelter to the soul."

"But see the fading many-coloured Woods, Shade deep'ning over shade, the country round Imbrown: crowded umbrage, dusk and dun, Of every hue from wan declining green To sooty dark."

"It is the multitude of trees that make a forest. Let us be like those [...] useful trees benefitting all sentient beings."

"The trees act not as individuals, but somehow as a collective. Exactly how they do this, we don’t yet know. But what we see is the power of unity."

"Trees perspire profusely, condense largely, and check evaporation so much, that woods are always moist: no wonder therefore that they contribute much to pools and streams. That trees are great promoters of lakes and rivers appears from a well known fact in North-America; for, since the woods and forests have been grubbed and cleared, all bodies of water have much diminished; so that some streams, that were very considerable a century ago, will not now drive a common mill."

"The best time to plant a tree was thirty years ago; the second best time is today"

"To plant trees is an act of faith."

"The place is all Awave with trees, Limes, myrtles, purple-beaded, Acacias having drunk the lees Of the night-dew, faint headed, And wan, grey olive-woods, which seem The fittest foliage for a dream."

"Stranger, if thou hast learned a truth which needs No school of long experience, that the world Is full of guilt and misery, and hast seen Enough of all its sorrows, crimes and cares, To tire thee of it, enter this wild wood And view the haunts of Nature. The calm shade Shall bring a kindred calm, and the sweet breeze That makes the green leaves dance, shall waft a balm To thy sick heart."

"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."

"Oh, leave this barren spot to me! Spare, woodman, spare the beechen tree!"

"Es ist dafür gesorgt, dass die Bäume nicht in den Himmel wachsen."

"Where is the pride of Summer,—the green prime,— The many, many leaves all twinkling?—three On the mossed elm; three on the naked lime Trembling,—and one upon the old oak tree! Where is the Dryad's immortality?"

"Nullam vare, sacra vite prius arborem."

"I think that I shall never scan A tree as lovely as a man. * * * * A tree depicts divinest plan, But God himself lives in a man."

"I think that I shall never see A poem lovely as a tree. * * * * Poems are made by fools like me, But only God can make a tree."

"It was the noise Of ancient trees falling while all was still Before the storm, in the long interval Between the gathering clouds and that light breeze Which Germans call the Wind's bride."

"This is the forest primeval."

"Woodman, spare that tree! Touch not a single bough!In youth it sheltered me, And I'll protect it now."

"When the sappy boughs Attire themselves with blooms, sweet rudiments Of future harvest."

"The highest and most lofty trees have the most reason to dread the thunder."

"Stultus est qui fructus magnarum arborum spectat, altitudinem non metitur."

"So bright in death I used to say, So beautiful through frost and cold! A lovelier thing I know to-day, The leaf is growing old, And wears in grace of duty done, The gold and scarlet of the sun."

"Now all the tree-tops lay asleep, Like green waves on the sea, As still as in the silent deep The ocean-woods may be."

"The trees were gazing up into the sky, Their bare arms stretched in prayer for the snows."

"A temple whose transepts are measured by miles, Whose chancel has morning for priest, Whose floor-work the foot of no spoiler defiles, Whose musical silence no music beguiles, No festivals limit its feast."

"The woods appear With crimson blotches deeply dashed and crossed,— Sign of the fatal pestilence of Frost."

"The linden broke her ranks and rent The woodbine wreaths that bind her, And down the middle buzz! she went With all her bees behind her! The poplars, in long order due, With cypress promenaded, The shock-head willows two and two By rivers gallopaded."

"O Love, what hours were thine and mine, In lands of palm and southern pine; In lands of palm, of orange-blossom, Of olive, aloe, and maize, and vine."

"Sure thou did'st nourish once! and many springs, Many bright mornings, much dew, many showers, Passed o'er thy head; many light hearts and wings, Which now are dead, lodg'd in thy living bowers. And still a new succession sings and flies; Fresh groves grow up, and their green branches shoot Towards the old and still-enduring skies; While the low violet thrives at their root."

"In such green palaces the first kings reign'd, Slept in their shades, and angels entertain'd; With such old counsellors they did advise, And by frequenting sacred groves grew wise."

"A brotherhood of venerable Trees."

"One impulse from a vernal wood May teach you more of man, Of moral evil and of good, Than all the sages can."

"The earth brought forth vegetation, plants yielding seed according to their own kinds, and trees bearing fruit in which is their seed, according to its kind. And God saw that it was good."

"Thou shalt not destroy the trees thereof by forcing an axe against them: for thou mayest eat of them, and thou shalt not cut them down (for the tree of the field is man's life)."

"In the place where the tree falleth, there it shall be."

"The tree is known by his fruit."

"Spreading himself like a green bay-tree."

"Happy is the man … his delights is in the law of the Lord, and on his law he meditates day and night. He is like a tree planted by streams of water, that yields its fruit in its season, and its leaf does not wither."

"The fruitage of the righteous one is a tree of life, and the one who wins souls is wise."

"Expectation postponed makes the heart sick, but a desire realized is a tree of life."

"The angel cried with a loud voice, saying, Hurt not the earth, neither the sea, nor the trees."

"The trees are coming into leaf Like something almost being said; The recent buds relax and spread, Their greenness is a kind of grief.Is it that they are born again And we grow old? No, they die too. Their yearly trick of looking new Is written down in rings of grain.Yet still the unresting castles thresh In fullgrown thickness every May. Last year is dead, they seem to say, Begin afresh, afresh, afresh."

"Lightly the breath of the spring wind blows,"

"A great acacia, with its slender trunk And overpoise of multitudinous leaves, (In which a hundred fields might spill their dew And intense verdure, yet find room enough) Stood reconciling all the place with green."

"Light-leaved acacias, by the door, Stood up in balmy air, Clusters of blossomed moonlight bore, And breathed a perfume rare."

"Our rocks are rough, but smiling there Th' acacia waves her yellow hair, Lonely and sweet, nor loved the less For flow'ring in a wilderness."

"I said to the almond tree: "Speak to me of God." and the almond tree blossomed."

"I heard the bells from the future churches, the children playing and laughing in the schoolyards … and here was an almond tree in bloom before me: I must reach out and cut a flowering branch. For, by believing passionately in something which still does not exist, we create it. The nonexistent is whatever we have not sufficiently desired, whatever we have not irrigated with our blood to such a degree that it becomes strong enough to stride across the somber threshold of nonexistence."

"The ash her purple drops forgivingly And sadly, breaking not the general hush; The maple swamps glow like a sunset sea, Each leaf a ripple with its separate flush; All round the wood's edge creeps the skirting blaze, Of bushes low, as when, on cloudy days, Ere the rain falls, the cautious farmer burns his brush."

"THE quiet of the evening hour Was laid on every summer leaf; That purple shade was on each flower, At once so beautiful, so brief, Only the aspen knew not rest, But still, with an unquiet song, Kept murmuring to the gentle west, And cast a changeful shade along."

"What whispers so strange at the hour of midnight, From the aspen leaves trembling so wildly? Why in the lone wood sings it sad, when the bright Full moon beams upon it so mildly?"

"At that awful hour of the Passion, when the Saviour of the world felt deserted in His agony, when— "The sympathizing sun his light withdrew, And wonder'd how the stars their dying Lord could view"— when earth, shaking with horror, rung the passing bell for Deity, and universal nature groaned, then from the loftiest tree to the lowliest flower all felt a sudden thrill, and trembling, bowed their heads, all save the proud and obdurate aspen, which said, "Why should we weep and tremble? we trees, and plants, and flowers are pure and never sinned!" Ere it ceased to speak, an involuntary trembling seized its very leaf, and the word went forth that it should never rest, but tremble on until the day of judgment."

"Beneath a shivering canopy reclined, Of aspen leaves that wave without a wind, I love to lie, when lulling breezes stir The spiry cones that tremble on the fir."

"And the wind, full of wantonness, wooes like a lover The young aspen-trees till they tremble all over."

"Do I? yea, in very truth do I, An 'twere an aspen leaf."

"O had the monster seen those lily hands Tremble like aspen-leaves, upon a lute."

"Rippling through thy branches goes the sunshine, Among thy leaves that palpitate forever, And in thee, a pining nymph had prisoned The soul, once of some tremulous inland river, Quivering to tell her woe, but ah! dumb, dumb forever."

"Prophetess of the spring’s rebirth! You show its light to those who mourn, Brightening autumn with your mirth."

"O'er yon bare knoll the pointed cedar shadows Drowse on the crisp, gray moss."

"Thus yields the cedar to the axe's edge, Whose arms gave shelter to the princely eagle."

"High on a hill a goodly Cedar grewe, Of wond'rous length and straight proportion, That farre abroad her daintie odours threwe; 'Mongst all the daughters of proud Libanon, Her match in beautie was not anie one."

"Sweet is the air with the budding haws, and the valley stretching for miles below Is white with blossoming cherry-trees, as if just covered with lightest snow."

"When I see the chestnut letting All her lovely blossoms falter down, I think, "Alas the day!""

"The chestnuts, lavish of their long-hid gold, To the faint Summer, beggared now and old, Pour back the sunshine hoarded 'neath her favoring eye."

"Dark tree! still sad when other's grief is fled, The only constant mourner o'er the dead."

"And the great elms o'erhead Dark shadows wove on their aërial looms, Shot through with golden thread."

"In crystal vapour everywhere Blue isles of heaven laughed between, And far, in forest-deeps unseen, The topmost elm-tree gather'd green From draughts of balmy air."

"Close by a rock, of less enormous height, Breaks the wild waves, and forms a dangerous strait; Full on its crown, a fig's green branches rise, And shoot a leafy forest to the skies."

"So counsel'd he, and both together went Into the thickest wood; there soon they chose The fig-tree, not that kind for fruit renowned, But such as at this day to Indians known In Malabar or Decan spreads her arms, Branching so broad and long, that in the ground The bended twigs take root, and daughters grow About the mother tree, a pillar'd shade High overarch'd, and echoing walks between."

"A lonely fir-tree is standing On a northern barren height; It sleeps, and the ice and snow-drift Cast round it a garment of white."

"I remember, I remember The fir-trees dark and high; I used to think their slender tops Were close against the sky."

"a drear-nighted December, Too happy, happy tree, Thy branches ne'er remember Their green felicity."

"Kindles the gummy bark of fir or pine, And sends a comfortable heat from far, Which might supply the sun."

"O Tannenbaum, O Tannenbaum, Wie treu sind deine Blätter. Du grünst nicht nur zur Sommerzeit, Nein, auch im Winter wenn es schneit, O Tannenbaum, O Tannenbaum, Wie treu sind deine Blätter."

"LAUREL, n. The 'laurus', a vegetable dedicated to Apollo, and formerly defoliated to wreathe the brows of victors and such poets as had influence at court. ('Vide supra.')"

"The laurel-tree grew large and strong, Its roots went searching deeply down; It split the marble walls of Wrong, And blossomed o'er the Despot's crown."

"This flower that smells of honey and the sea, White laurustine, seems in my hand to be A white star made of memory long ago Lit in the heaven of dear times dead to me."

"The linden in the fervors of July Hums with a louder concert."

"If thou lookest on the lime-leaf, Thou a heart's form will discover; Therefore are the lindens ever Chosen seats of each fond lover."

"The maples carried the people through, provided food just when they needed it most."

"The scarlet of the maples can shake me like a cry, Of bugles going by."

"That was a day of delight and wonder. While lying the shade of the maple trees under— He felt the soft breeze at its frolicksome play; He smelled the sweet odor of newly mown hay."

"I mark me how today the maples wear A look of inward burgeoning, and I feel Colours I see not in the naked air, Lance-keen, and with the little blue of steel."

"Retracing our steps to the garden we see two trees which are redolent of the past - a medlar and a mulberry. This last is not a beautiful tree. It covers itself with such dense masses of heavy foliage; its form has neither grace nor dignity - and yet we love it."

"What stories shared between these gnarled trees, What secrets shared twixt these and smiling breeze Softly singing, “So much more left to see…”"

"A song to the oak, the brave old oak, Who hath ruled in the greenwood long; Here's health and renown to his broad green crown, And his fifty arms so strong. There's fear in his frown when the Sun goes down, And the fire in the West fades out; And he showeth his might on a wild midnight, When the storms through his branches shout."

"The oak, when living, monarch of the wood; The English oak, which, dead, commands the flood."

"Old noted oak! I saw thee in a mood Of vague indifference; and yet with me Thy memory, like thy fate, hath lingering stood For years, thou hermit, in the lonely sea Of grass that waves around thee!"

"The monarch oak, the patriarch of the trees, Shoots rising up, and spreads by slow degrees. Three centuries he grows, and three he stays Supreme in state; and in three more decays."

"Tall oaks from little acorns grow."

"The oaks with solemnity shook their heads; The twigs of the birch-trees, in token Of warning, nodded,—and I exclaim'd: "Dear Monarch, forgive what I've spoken!""

"Those green-robed senators of mighty woods, Tall oaks, branch-charmed by the earnest stars, Dream, and so dream all night without a stir."

"The tall Oak, towering to the skies, The fury of the wind defies, From age to age, in virtue strong. Inured to stand, and suffer wrong."

"There grewe an aged tree on the greene; A goodly Oake sometime had it bene, With armes full strong and largely displayed, But of their leaves they were disarayde The bodie bigge, and mightely pight, Thoroughly rooted, and of wond'rous hight; Whilome had bene the king of the field, And mochell mast to the husband did yielde, And with his nuts larded many swine: But now the gray mosse marred his rine; His bared boughes were beaten with stormes, His toppe was bald, and wasted with wormes, His honour decayed, his braunches sere."

"Our Mountains are cover'd with Imperial Oak Whose Roots, like our liberties, ages have nourished But long e're our Nation submits to the Yoke Not a Tree shall be left on the Field where it Flourished Should Invasion impend, every Tree would defend From the Hill tops they shaded, our Shores to defend For ne'er shall the Sons of Columbia be Slaves While the Earth bears a Plant, or the Sea rolls its Waves."

"As the palm-tree standeth so straight and so tall, The more the hail beats, and the more the rains fall."

"First the high palme-trees, with braunches faire, Out of the lowly vallies did arise, And high shoote up their heads into the skyes."

"Next to thee, O fair gazelle, O Beddowee girl, beloved so well; Next to the fearless Nedjidee, Whose fleetness shall bear me again to thee; Next to ye both I love the Palm, With his leaves of beauty, his fruit of balm; Next to ye both I love the Tree Whose fluttering shadow wraps us three With love, and silence, and mystery!"

"Of threads of palm was the carpet spun Whereon he kneels when the day is done, And the foreheads of Islam are bowed as one! To him the palm is a gift divine, Wherein all uses of man combine,— House and raiment and food and wine! And, in the hour of his great release, His need of the palms shall only cease With the shroud wherein he lieth in peace. "Allah il Allah!" he sings his psalm, On the Indian Sea, by the isles of balm; "Thanks to Allah, who gives the palm!""

"What does the good ship bear so well? The cocoa-nut with its stony shell, And the milky sap of its inner cell."

"Shaggy shade Of desert-loving pine, whose emerald scalp Nods to the storm."

"Risest from forth thy silent sea of pines."

"'Twas on the inner bark, stripped from the pine, Our father pencilled this epistle rare; Two blazing pine knots did his torches shine, Two braided pallets formed his desk and chair."

"As sunbeams stream through liberal space And nothing jostle or displace, So waved the pine-tree through my thought And fanned the dreams it never brought."

"Like two cathedral towers these stately pines Uplift their fretted summits tipped with cones; The arch beneath them is not built with stones, Not Art but Nature traced these lovely lines, And carved this graceful arabasque of vines; No organ but the wind here sighs and moans, No sepulchre conceals a martyr's bones, No marble bishop on his tomb reclines. Enter! the pavement, carpeted with leaves, Gives back a softened echo to thy tread! Listen! the choir is singing; all the birds, In leafy galleries beneath the eaves, Are singing! listen, ere the sound be fled, And learn there may be worship without words."

"Under the yaller pines I house, When sunshine makes 'em all sweet-scented, An' hear among their furry boughs The baskin' west-wind purr contented."

"The pine is the mother of legends."

"To archèd walks of twilight groves, And shadows brown that Sylvan loves, Of pine."

"Here also grew the rougher rinded pine, The great Argoan ship's brave ornament."

"Ancient Pines, Ye bear no record of the years of man. Spring is your sole historian."

"Stately Pines, But few more years around the promontory Your chant will meet the thunders of the sea."

"We knew it would rain, for the poplars showed The white of their leaves, the amber grain Shrunk in the wind,—and the lightning now Is tangled in tremulous skeins of rain."

"Trees that, like the poplar, hit upward all their boughs, give no shade and no shelter, whatever their height. Trees the most lovingly shelter and shade us, when, like the willow, the higher soar their summits, the lowlier droop their boughs."

"Heed not the night; a summer lodge amid the wild is mine— 'Tis shadowed by the tulip-tree, 'tis mantled by the vine."

"The tulip-tree, high up, Opened, in airs of June, her multitude Of golden chalices to humming birds And silken-winged insects of the sky."

"The Spice-Tree lives in the garden green, Beside it the fountain flows; And a fair Bird sits the boughs between, And sings his melodious woes. * * * * * * That out-bound stem has branches three; On each a thousand blossoms grow; And old as aught of time can be, The root stands fast in the rocks below."

"I'll hang my harp on a willow tree."

"Willow, in thy breezy moan, I can hear a deeper tone; Through thy leaves come whispering low, Faint sweet sounds of long ago— Willow, sighing willow!"

"All a green willow, willow, All a green willow is my garland."

"The willow hangs with sheltering grace And benediction o'er their sod, And Nature, hushed, assures the soul They rest in God."

"Near the lake where drooped the willow, Long time ago."

"We hanged our harps upon the willows in the midst thereof."

"Know ye the willow-tree, Whose grey leaves quiver, Whispering gloomily To yon pale river? Lady, at even-tide Wander not near it: They say its branches hide A sad, lost spirit!"

"Careless, unsocial plant! that loves to dwell 'Midst skulls and coffins, epitaphs and worms: Where light-heel'd ghosts and visionary shades, Beneath the wan, cold Moon (as Fame reports) Embodied, thick, perform their mystic rounds. No other merriment, dull tree! is thine."

"For there no yew nor cypress spread their gloom But roses blossom'd by each rustic tomb."

"Slips of yew Sliver'd in the moon's eclipse."

"Of vast circumference and gloom profound, This solitary Tree! A living thing Produced too slowly ever to decay; Of form and aspect too magnificent To be destroyed."

"There is a Yew-tree, pride of Lorton Vale, Which to this day stands single, in the midst Of its own darkness, as it stood of yore."

"Lay a Garland on my Hearse of the dismal yew;"

"Now from yon black and fun’ral Yew, That bathes the Charnel House with Dew, Methinks I hear a Voice begin; (Ye Ravens, cease your croaking Din, Ye tolling Clocks, no Time resound O’er the long Lake and midnight Ground) It sends a Peal of hollow Groans, Thus speaking from among the Bones: When Men my Scythe and Darts supply, How great a King of Fears am I! They view me like the last of Things: They make, and then they dread, my Stings. Fools! if you less provok’d your Fears, No more my Spectre-Form appears. Death’s but a Path that must be trod, If Man wou’d ever pass to God: A Port of Calms, a State of Ease From the rough Rage of swelling Seas. Why then thy flowing sable Stoles, Deep pendant Cypress, mourning Poles, Loose Scarfs to fall athwart thy Weeds, Long Palls, drawn Herses, cover’d Steeds, And Plumes of black, that as they tread, Nod o’er the ’Scutcheons of the Dead?"

"Old Yew, which graspest at the stones That name the under-lying dead, Thy fibres net the dreamless head, Thy roots are wrapt about the bones.The seasons bring the flower again, And bring the firstling to the flock; And in the dusk of thee, the clock Beats out the little lives of men.O, not for thee the glow, the bloom, Who changest not in any gale, Nor branding summer suns avail To touch thy thousand years of gloom:And gazing on thee, sullen tree, Sick for thy stubborn hardihood, I seem to fail from out my blood And grow incorporate into thee."

"Old warder of these buried bones, And answering now my random stroke With fruitful cloud and living smoke, Dark yew, that graspest at the stonesAnd dippest toward the dreamless head, To thee too comes the golden hour When flower is feeling after flower; But Sorrow—fixt upon the dead,And darkening the dark graves of men,— What whisper’d from her lying lips? Thy gloom is kindled at the tips, And passes into gloom again."

"Some country nook, where o’er thy unknown grave Tall grasses and white flowering nettles wave— Under a dark red-fruited yew-tree’s shade."

"No triumph and no labour and no lust, Only dead yew-leaves and a little dust."

"What of the bow? The bow was made in England: Of true wood, of yew-wood, The wood of English bows; So men who are free Love the old yew-tree And the land where the yew-tree grows."

"Careless, unsocial plant! that loves to dwell 'Midst skulls and coffins, epitaphs and worms: Where light-heel'd ghosts and visionary shades, Beneath the wan, cold Moon (as Fame reports) Embodied, thick, perform their mystic rounds. No other merriment, dull tree! is thine."

"For there no yew nor cypress spread their gloom But roses blossom'd by each rustic tomb."

"Slips of yew Sliver'd in the moon's eclipse."

"Of vast circumference and gloom profound, This solitary Tree! A living thing Produced too slowly ever to decay; Of form and aspect too magnificent To be destroyed."

"There is a Yew-tree, pride of Lorton Vale, Which to this day stands single, in the midst Of its own darkness, as it stood of yore."

"Nothing but a doll—doll—doll! You care for nothing. You are stuffed with sawdust. You never had a heart. Nothing could ever make you feel. You are a DOLL!"

"281. I, L. W., believe, am sure, that my friend hasn't sawdust in his body or in his head, even though I have no direct evidence of my senses to the contrary. I am sure, by reason of what has been said to me, of what I have read, and of my experience."

"Wood: Identification and Use lists no fewer than 170 woods deemed toxic. ... Hang around too much dust and you might find yourself with conjunctivitis, bronchial asthma, and nausea. dust can cause swelling of the scrotum and oversensitivity to light. ... Dust from the tree can cause loss of appetite, and dust from the tree can cause temporary blindness. sawdust can lead to nasal cancer and swelling of the eyelids. There's even evidence linking the wood dust from commonplace and to cancer of the upper respiratory tract. ... try to avoid splinters from wood, found in Australia; the wood contains a poison the aboriginals used on spearheads."

"Wood carving is perhaps one of the earliest and most universal of the industrial arts."

"Out in the garden where we planted the seeds There is a tree as old as me Branches were sewn by the color of green Ground had arose and passed it's knees By the cracks of the skin I climbed to the top I climbed the tree to see the world When the gusts came around to blow me down I held on as tightly as you held onto me"

"Where did you get this Christmas tree?" "Nowhere." "Did you cut down the Yggdrasil?" "Maybe..."

"An ash I know there stands, Yggdrasill is its name, a tall tree, showered with shining loam. From there come the dews that drop in the valleys. It stands forever green over Urðr's well."

"Does Yggdrasil drink from it because it is the Well of Wisdom, or is it the Well of Wisdom because Yggdrasil drinks from it?"

"I know that I hung on the windy tree Nine full nights, Pierced by a spear offered to Odin Myself to myself of which none knows Upon that tree Where its roots run..."

"The tamarind tree is very delectable to behold, being likewise very full of spreading branches, the leaves growing like to the box tree in England, but are shaped something more longer, and not of that hardness with the forementioned, but more pliable. It shooteth out a white flower, which hath no grateful flavour, which falling off, produces its fruit in shape of a peascod, being filled with a row of stones, covered with a brittle shell, which incloseth the pulp, being of a pleasant acid quality, and is a good commodity in Europe."

"In the garden of the said Capuchins I saw for the first time on a tree a fruit which tickled my curiosity so much that I must describe it. It is called Giacca, or Taqua, as the Portuguese write it. The tree was of the size of a moderate oak and the fruit is of the size of a bag of middling size, about four palms long and proportionately thick, viz., a little than two palms in diameter; and because, if this fruit were to grow on the branches like other fruits, the branches would certainly not be able to bear its weight, Nature has wisely ordained that it should grow on the trunk...."

"…the Tamarind tree, which grows there, is so famous among the English that, when they return to London and speak of what they have seen, they make a special mention of the Tamarind tree of Golicatan [Calcutta]."

"Another curiosity in this neighborhood is the celebrated bur or banyan tree, called Kuveer Bur, from a saint who is said to have planted it. It stands on, and entirely covers an island of the Nerbudda about twelve miles above Broach. Of this tree, which has been renowned ever since the first coming of the Portuguese to India, which is celebrated by our early voyagers and by Milton, and which, the natives tell us boasted a shade sufficiently broad to shelter 10,000 horse, a considerable part has been washed away with the soil on which it stood, within these few years, by the freshes of the river, but enough remains, as I was assured, to make it one of the noblest groves in the world, and well worthy of all the admiration which it has received."

"It may briefly yet categorically be stated here that the earliest book of the Aryans, viz. the Rigveda, does not mention any of the species of cold-climate trees... On the other hand, all the trees mentioned in the Rigveda, such as the Asvattha (Ficus Religiosa L.), Khadira (Acacia catechu), Nyagrodha (Ficus benghalensis), to name just a few, do not belong to a cold climate but to a tropical one."

"Varuṇa, King, of hallowed might, sustaineth erect the Tree's stem in the baseless region. Its rays, whose root is high above, stream downward. Deep may they sink within us, and be hidden."

"We have been occupied in planting a small avenue of neem trees in front of the house; unlike the air around the tamarind, that near a neem tree is reckoned wholesome – according to the Gujerati proverb, we had made no advance on our heavenward road until the avenue was planted, which carried us on one-third of the journey. No sooner were the trees in the ground, than the servants requested to be allowed to marry a neem to a young peepal tree (Ficus religiosa), which marriage was accordingly celebrated by planting a peepal and neem together, and entwining their branches. Some pooja was performed at the same time which, with the ceremony of the marriage, was sure to bring good fortune to the newly-planted avenue."

"LAWSON CYPRESS}} ... This is found in Oregon and California. The majority of trees grow below 3000 feet and are at their best growing about 3 to 15 miles from the coast. It is sometimes found associated with , , , and , but often forms unmixed colonies."

". Cupressus Lawsoniana.—This we consider one of the greatest acquisitions that has been made for many years to our list of hardy s. Its foliage resembles the , but its habit is that of the . As a lawn tree, or for association and planting near water, or in cemeteries where there is room, its beauty of foliage and form renders it in every way desirable. There is a variety of this called Pyramidalis, that is more dense and upright, but to us not as beautiful."

"Port-Orford-cedar (Chamaecyparis lawsoniana) ... is the largest species of its and the largest representative of the Cupressineae in North America. It is a highly valued because of the durability, excellent machinability, light weight, strength, and shock resistance of the wood. It is also valued worldwide as an ."

"The Japanese import Port-Orford-cedar as a substitute for their native , which for centuries has been the favorite wood of Japanese builders and craftsmen. It is highly valued in their woodenware, novelty, and toy industries. Another major use is for construction and repair of s and ."

"' is a water-borne invasive root pathogen that is currently affecting Port Orford cedar in riparian zones. Once a tree near a stream is infected the pathogen spreads rapidly down the stream."

"An exotic fungal forest pathogen, ', first identified in the Pacific Northwest in 1923, eventually spread throughout much of the Port-Orford-cedar tree’s native range, killing significant amounts of this valuable timber species on high risk sites. In 1997, the started a Port-Orford-cedar breeding program to increase resistant varieties of this tree to be replaced in areas of its native range."