ARBOR DAY MAM UAL. 
274 
ODE TO THE TREES. 
0 , WHO is there within whose heart 
The love of noble manhood dwells, 
Who feels the thrill of pleasure start 
When other 1 tongues the story tells 
Of deeds sublime? with true eye sees 
The beautiful in art and thought — 
Dares stand before God’s stately trees, 
Declaring that he loves them not ? 
Companions of our childhood days ! 
Companions still, though grown we be! 
Still through thy leaves the light breeze strays, 
Whispering the same old songs to me. 
Dear forest! down thy long aisles dim 
Soft sweeps the zephyr’s light caress; 
Worthy indeed art thou of Him 
Who made thee in thy loveliness. 
Long may thy graceful branches wave, 
Piercing with pride the balmy air; 
Harm ne’er would come if I could save — 
Fit objects of our love and care. 
But though erect each noble form, 
As year by year rolls swift along, 
Thou too, like man, must face the storm, 
And fall — or live to be more strong. 
Forever upward, day by day, 
Patient thy growing branches turn ; 
Nearer the heavens each year alway — 
May we the simple lesson learn — 
Though few our years or many be, 
It matters not the number given, 
If we can feel that, like the tree, 
Each year hath found us nearer heaven. 
Maggie May Welsh, Lancaster , O. 
Written for Cincinnati “ Arbor Day ” Celebration. 
To me the meanest flower that blows can give 
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears. 
Wordsworth. 
