Trees 
Trees are the arms of Mother Earth lifted up in worship of her 
Maker, Where they are, beauty dwells; where they are not, the land 
is ugly though it be rich, for its richness is but greasy fatness and 
its gaudy raiment is but cheap imitation for forest finery. 
Trees are the shelter of man and beast and bird; they furnish 
the roof above us, the shade about us and the nesting places of love 
and song. They call children cut to play; they entice sweethearts 
into leafy coverts to seal their vows with fond caresses; they con¬ 
sole and gratefully reward old age. They are the fittest ornaments 
of wealth and the inalienable possessions of the poor who can enjoy 
them without having title to them. They are the masts that fly the 
flags of all nations and the sails of all seas; they are the timbers 
that bridge forbidding streams; they bear the wires of the world’s 
intelligence; they hold the rails that carry the traffic of continents; 
they are the carved and polished furnishings of the home; they 
cradle the young and coffin the dead. 
Trees are nature’s prime sources of food; their fruits and nuts 
gave sustenance to the first tribes of men and are the sweetest and 
most nourishing of earth’s products. 
Trees herald the spring with glorious banners of leaf and bloom; 
they clothe the autumn in garments of gold and royal purple; bared 
to the winter’s cold they are the harp of the winds and they whisper 
their music of the infinite spaces. 
Before the earth could be peopled, it was set thick with trees; 
and when man has run his course and the race we know has dis¬ 
appeared in the completeness of its mission, or perishes in the de¬ 
struction of its trees, the earth will spring up again with new forests 
to shelter and sustain a new race of men and beasts and birds to 
work out a greater destiny. Perhaps if we are wise enough to re¬ 
plenish our wasting forests and to make ourselves worthy of the 
gift of trees, we may be permitted to accomplish that greater destiny 
which the Mighty Forester, the Perfect Orchardist, the Loving Fa¬ 
ther, requires in the fulfillment of His sublime purpose. 
— Hon. Clarence Ousley 
Fort Worth, Texas 
