CHAPTER VII 



A SONG OF THE WINTER WOODS 



The oaks are green, the laurels gay, 



The blithe birds sing the bright day long; 



The pines are green and gay as they, 

 And full of murmuring song. 



The oaks are bare, the laurels stark; 



The birds to warmer lands have flown; 

 The pines are green and singing Hark ! 



Their song makes sweeter moan. 



For summer rich and winter lean, 



O pine-tree, stalwart, straight and strong, 



Give me the strength that keeps thee green, 

 The grace that gives thee song. 



VTTERE you to ask me, "Which day in all the 

 V? year is best for a trip to the woods?" I 

 could only answer, "Any day, every day, summer 

 or winter, the day you long to go." For when 

 you long to go, then there is usually a need for 

 you to go; and no needy heart was ever turned 

 by the woods empty away. But many a heart 

 that knows and loves the summer woods, has 

 never found joy in the winter woods, has never 

 seen their glory, nor heard their song. 

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