The Chorus of the Forest 



was the music of my own heart over some won- 

 drous flower or landscajie picture, or stirred to j oin 

 in the chorus around me. The trees Avere large 

 wind-harps, the trunks the framework, the hranclies 

 the strings. These trunks always were wrapped in 

 gray, but with each tree a differing shade. There 

 were brown-gray, green-gray, blue-gray, dark- 

 gray, light-gray, every imaginable gray, and many 

 of them so vine-entwined and lichen-decorated it 

 was difficult to tell exactly what color they Avere. 

 The hickory was the tatterdemalion; no other 

 tree Avas so rough and ragged in its covering. 

 Oak, elm, walnut, and ash, while dee^dy indented 

 with the breaks of growth, had more even surface. 

 The jioplar, birch, and sycamore had the smooth- 

 est bark and shoAved the most color. The tall, 

 sti-aight birch did gleam "like silver," but to me 

 the sycamore Avas more beautiful. The largest 

 Avere of amazing size, AA'hole branches a cream-Avhite 

 Avith big patches of green, and the rough bark of 

 the trunks Avas a dirty yelloAV-gray. These trees 

 always shoAv most color in Avinter, but I do not 

 know AA'hether they really are brighter then, or 

 Avhether the absence of the green leaA^es makes 

 them a})2:)ear so. AnyAvhere near the riA'er the 

 trees grcAV larger, and their uplifted branches 

 caught the air and made louder music, AA'hile the 

 unceasing song of the Avater played a minor accom- 

 paniment. These big Avind-harps Avere standing 



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