CHAPTER EIGHTEEN 



HOW THE FORESTS SUFFER FROM FIRES 



He who wantonly kills a tree, 



All in a night of God-sent dream, 



He shall travel a desert waste 



Of pitiless glare, and never a stream, 



Nor a blade of grass, nor an inch of shade — 



AH in a wilderness he has made. 



O, forlorn without trees ! 



He who tenderly saves a tree, 



All in a night of God-sent dream. 



He shall list to a hermit thrush 



Deep in the forest by mountain stream. 



With friendly branches that lead and shade, 



All in a woodland that he has made. 



O, the peace of the trees ! 



He who passionately loves a tree. 

 Growth and power shall understand ; 

 Everywhere he shall find a friend. 

 Listen ! They greet him from every land, 

 English Oak and the Ash and Thorn, 

 Silvery Olive, and Cypress tall, 

 Spreading -Willow, and gnarled old Pine, 

 Flowering branches by orchard wall — 

 Sunshine, shadow, and sweetness of glade — 

 All in a Paradise he has made. 

 O, the joy of the trees ! 



The Dryad's Message 



Have you ever seen a forest fire? It is a terrible sight 

 to see the flames sweep up a mountain side. They run 

 along the ground licking up the leaves and dead branches. 

 They leap from tree to tree, and then with a roar the sheet 

 of flame goes to the top of a tall pine. The air is like the 

 breath from an oven and is filled with sparks and with 



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