' Come to me," 



Quoth the Pine-tree, 

 ' I am the giver of honor. 



My garden is the cloven rock 



And my manure the snow ; 



And drifting sand-heaps feed my stock, 



In summer's scorching glow." 



EMERSON. 



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. 



LONGFELLOW. 



