TREES AT LEISURE 



bark distinguish the butternut 

 and often suggest the long 

 smooth slats that hold the chest- 

 nut bole in tight embrace. 



No winter scene is perfect 

 without the evergreens; al- 

 though these, until dead, never 

 display to our curious eyes the 

 history of their struggles for 

 life, as written on their naked 

 branches; yet to them alone 

 among trees has a voice been 

 given. The poet has often been 

 a more sensitive listener than 

 seer in the natural world, and 

 from the earliest times he has 

 resung for his fellow-men the 

 mysterious song of the pine. 



Although our evergreens re- 

 tain their working garb, yet 

 they are trees of fine leisure 

 during the months of frost 

 and ice; and whether they lift 



'[47] 



