perennial woody plant From Wikiquote, the free quote compendium
A fool sees not the same tree that a wise man sees. ~ William BlakeIt 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. ~ Robert Louis StevensonThe 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. ~ Genesis 1:12.You, me, Pine trees. What are we getting for breakfast, Pine needle tea, of course! Oh no, there was pollen in our Pine needle tea, I sneeze all over a pigeon that lands on your branch. He eats my snot, stupid pigeon. A pack of wolves sit next to us, they are back from a grocery run, I take the benadryl from one of the Wolves, oh no! There was a laxative in my benadryl, I proceed to poo myself until I pass out and wake up inside Shrek's outhouse. I read a fairy tale book, true loves first kiss?? (Hehehe like thats ever going to happen) After getting kicked out by Shrek I then wake up as a goose, take a dump, fly to Canada, fly back, do a thump, take another dump, smoke a joint, green out (which I did not know I could do) then I turn into a Pine tree, oh no I can't move...!
Trees are plants with elongated stems, or trunks, supporting leaves or branches. Because of their longevity and usefulness, trees have always been revered and they play a role in much of the world's mythology, metaphor and symbolism.
General
A birch tree doesn't feel cosmic fulfillment when a moose munches its leaves; the tree species, in fact,it needs and evolves to fight the moose, to keep the animal's munching lips away from vulnerable young leaves and twigs. - Robert T. Bakker
A
It’s hard to see the forest when you’re a tree.
Paula Gunn Allen, The Sacred Hoop: Recovering the Feminine in American Indian Traditions. Beacon Press. 1 September 1992. ISBN 978-0-8070-4617-3. Chapter Three
He who saves an ancient tree does better even than he who plants a new one.
Alfred Austin, In Veronica's Garden (London: Macmillan and Co., 1895), p. 70.
B
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.
Robert T. Bakker, The Dinosaur Heresies: A Revolutionary View of Dinosaurs (1986), Longman Scientific & Technical, p. 179.
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.
As by the way of innuendo Lucus is made a non lucendo.
Charles Churchill, The Ghost (1763), Book II. V. 257. "Lucus a non lucendo.—Lucus (a grove), from non lucendo (not admitting light)." A derivation given by Quintilian I. 16, and by others.
No tree in all the grove but has its charms, Though each its hue peculiar.
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.
Dinah Craik, The Mulberry-Tree, reported in Hoyt's New Cyclopedia Of Practical Quotations (1922), p. 634.
D
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.
Albert Einstein, in "Moral Decay" (1937); later published in Out of My Later Years (1950).
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.
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.
Nikos Kazantzakis, in The Saviors of God (1923), "The Action: The Relationship between Man and Nature"
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.
Kalevala, Rune II. translated by John Martin Crawford (1888).
L
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.”
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.
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.
John Pastor, Mathematical Ecology of Populations and Ecosystems (2008), Ch. 1: What is mathematical ecology and why should we do it?
Haunted trees covered behind the curtains of their own leaves stare at the dark from the fringe of streets.
Alexander Pope, Moral Essays (1731-35), Epistle IV, line 117.
R
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.
Samuel Rutherford, reported in Josiah Hotchkiss Gilbert, Dictionary of Burning Words of Brilliant Writers (1895), p. 206.
S
"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"
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.
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.
Edmund Spenser, The Faerie Queene (1589-96), Book I, Canto I, Stanza 8.
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.
Robert Louis Stevenson, in "Forest Notes" (1875-1876) "Morality" also in The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson, Vol. IX: Essays and Reviews (1906) edited by Charles Curis Bigelow and Temple Scott, p. 133.
T
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.
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.
James Thomson, The Seasons, Summer (1727), line 469.
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.
James Thomson, The Seasons, Autumn (1730), line 950.
It is the multitude of trees that make a forest. Let us be like those [...] useful trees benefitting all sentient beings.
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
Variants include: "The best time to plant a tree was 20 years ago. The second best time is now."
From the Congressional Record of 1969: "It has been said that the best time to plant a tree was thirty years ago, the second best time is today."
A possible precursor from the 1950s: "Pruning of nature apple trees can be done safely at any time and, if you haven't already started, now is the second-best time to do it." (Tennessee horticulture (1956)
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.
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?
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.
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.
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 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.
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.
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.
Genesis 1:12.
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).
Deuteronomy 20:19.
In the place where the tree falleth, there it shall be.
Ecclesiastes, XI. 3.
The tree is known by his fruit.
Matthew, XII. 33.
Spreading himself like a green bay-tree.
Psalms, XXXVII. 35.
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.
Psalms 1:1-3.
The fruitage of the righteous one is a tree of life, and the one who wins souls is wise.
The angel cried with a loud voice, saying, Hurt not the earth, neither the sea, nor the trees.
Revelation 7:3.
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.
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.
I said to the almond tree: "Speak to me of God" and the almond tree blossomed. ~ Nikos KazantzakisHere was an almond tree in bloom before me: I must reach out and cut a flowering branch. ~ Nikos Kazantzakis
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.
James Russell Lowell, An Indian-Summer Reverie, Stanza 11, reported in Hoyt's New Cyclopedia Of Practical Quotations (1922), p. 45.
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.
Letitia Elizabeth LandonThe London Literary Gazette, 21st August, 1830, 'The Aspen Tree', also published in The Vow of the Peacock, (1835)
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.
Legend, from Notes and Queries, first series, Volume VI, No. 161.
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.
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.
James Russell Lowell, The Birch Tree, reported in Hoyt's New Cyclopedia Of Practical Quotations (1922), p. 70.
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.
Edmund Spenser, Visions of the World's Vanitie, Stanza 7.
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.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Christus, Golden Legend, Part IV, reported in Hoyt's New Cyclopedia Of Practical Quotations (1922), p. 109.
And the great elms o'erhead Dark shadows wove on their aërial looms, Shot through with golden thread.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Hawthorne, Stanza 2, reported in Hoyt's New Cyclopedia Of Practical Quotations (1922), p. 219.
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.
Alfred Tennyson, Sir Launcelot and Queen Guinevere, reported in Hoyt's New Cyclopedia Of Practical Quotations (1922), p. 219.
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.
Homer, The Odyssey (c. 8th century BC), Book XII, line 125. Pope's translation.
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.
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.
O hemlock-tree! O hemlock-tree! how faithful are thy branches! Green not alone in summer time, But in the winter's frost and rime! O hemlock-tree! O hemlock-tree! how faithful are thy branches!
August Zarnack's version of Old German Folk Song. Translation by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, The Hemlock-Tree; reported in Hoyt's New Cyclopedia Of Practical Quotations (1922), p. 365.
The Como people... went to Lierna, where they were terrified by seeing its inhabitants appear, they hid in the mountain woods, the Como people burned their beautiful tower crowned with green laurel, after having put its defenders to flight away.
I Comaschi...andarono sopra Lierna, dove furono terrorizzati dal vedere comparire i suoi abitanti, si nascosero nei boschi delle montagne, i comaschi bruciarono una loro torre bellissima e coronata di Verde alloro, dopo avere posto in fuga i suoi difensori.
I Comaschi...andarono sopra Lierna, dov'atterriti al loro comparire gli abitanti, e ricoveratisi ne'boschi de' suoi moti, abbruggiarono i comaschi una loro torre bellissima e coronata di Verde alloro, dopo hauere posti in fuga i dilei difensori. Anni 1124 d.C. (original Ancient Italian)
There you meet Lierna in a fairly spacious redoubt, then the Milk River is revealed by the citizens of the foaming waves; and it is not curious that he does not visit it and that he does not portray it. From a cave the very cold waters leap for 300 metres, almost plumb... Three men in 1383 ventured into the cave from which it flows: after having gone perhaps 6 miles, they got lost; and having wandered for three days, they came out with such fear that they died... and not far away the "Uga" spring, which without ever increasing or diminishing, flows from a cave to spray a laurel pergola (Laurus Nobilis), and to revive the artificial waterfalls of the delicious "Capuana".
Ivi incontri Lierna in un ridotto abbastanza spazioso, poi il Fiume Latte è rivelato dalla cittadinanza delle onde spumeggianti; e non è curioso che nol visiti che non ritragga. Da una caverna trabalza per 300 metri quasi a piombo le fredissime acque...Tre uomini nel 1383 si avventurarono nella grotta donde sbocca: inoltratisi per forse 6 miglia, vi si smarrirono; e vagato tre giorni, uscirono con tale spavento che ne morirono... e poco lungi la fonte "Uga", che senza crescere né scemare mai, sgorga da una grotta a spruzzare un pergolato d'alloro (Laurus Nobilis), e ad avvivare le artifiziali cascate della deliziosa "Capuana". (Ancient Italian)
Along the Lake Como perpetual vineyards; then the two small promontories of Vetergnano follow. Not far from those lies Lierna surrounded by a not thankless territory. Its wines are praised for those who suffer from stones and gout, whose taste is pleasantly sharp, making it pleasant to pass by. There is no shortage of olive groves on those fields.
Costeggiano indi il Lario vigne perpetue; dopo sieguono i due piccioli promontori di Vetergnano. Poco da quelli dista Lierna cinta da non ingrato territorio. Lodansi i di lei vini per coloro, che soffran di calcoli e podagre, perciocchè al sapor graziosamente tagliente congiungono la facilità d'esser passanti. Nè già mancan d'oliveti quei campi. (Ancient Italian)
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.')
Ambrose Bierce, The Cynic's Dictionary (1906); republished as The Devil's Dictionary (1911).
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.
Richard Henry Horne, The Laurel Seed; reported in Hoyt's New Cyclopedia Of Practical Quotations (1922), p. 439.
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.
Algernon Charles Swinburne, Relics; reported in Hoyt's New Cyclopedia Of Practical Quotations (1922), p. 439.
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.
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; Full 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.
Dinah Craik, The Mulberry-Tree, reported in Hoyt's New Cyclopedia Of Practical Quotations (1922), p. 534.
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.
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. John Dryden
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.
John Dryden, Palamon and Arcite, Book III, line 1,058.
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!"
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.
Caption from a bowl made in Liverpool, for export to the US
'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.
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.
Thomas Bailey Aldrich, Before the Rain, reported in Hoyt's New Cyclopedia Of Practical Quotations (1922), p. 655.
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.
Edward Bulwer-Lytton, What Will He Do With It? (1858), Book XI, Chapter X, introductory lines.
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.
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.
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.