Trees

"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."

"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."

"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."