196 ARBOR DAY 



Athwart long aisles the sunbeams pierce their way; 



High up, the crows are gathering for the night; 



The delicate needles fill the air; the jay 



Takes through their golden mist his radiant flight; 



They fall and fall, till at November's close 



The snowflakes drop as lightly snows on snows. 



MEN AND TREES* 



BY EDITH M. THOMAS 



SOME time since, on an enchanted summer after- 

 noon, I heard the woods utter the following com- 

 plaint, in tones half whisper, half musical recitative 

 (I do not think I could have been asleep) : 



We that sway the forest realm, 



Oak and chestnut, beech and elm, 



Do grow weary standing here 



Year by year long year by year! 



Will it never more befall us 



We shall hear a master call us, 



When our troops shall break their trance 



And be joined in nimble dance? 



He should lead us up and down, 



Drunk with joy from root to crown, 



Through the valley, over hill, 



Servants unto music's will; 



Leaf and nut the earth bestrewing, 



Birds their truant nests pursuing 



Merry madness all around 



In the trembling air and ground! 



* By permission of the publishers, Houghton, Mifflin & Co. 



