64 
THE ARDOR DAY LADY 
THE PINE 
The elm lets fall its leaves before the frost, 
The very oak grows shivering and sere, 
The trees are barren when the summer’s lost: 
But one tree keeps its goodness all the year. 
Green pine, unchanging as the days go by, 
Thou art thyself beneath whatever sky; 
My shelter from all winds, my own strong 
pine, 
’Tis spring, ’tis summer, still, while thou art 
mine. 
—Augusta Webster. 
