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Thomas Hardy - In A Wood
Work rating: Low

Pale beech and pine-tree blue,  
  Set in one clay,  
Bough to bough cannot you  
  Bide out your day?  
When the rains skim and skip,
Why mar sweet comradeship,  
Blighting with poison-drip  
  Neighborly spray?  
  
Heart-halt and spirit-lame,  
  City-opprest,
Unto this wood I came  
  As to a nest;  
Dreaming that sylvan peace  
Offered the harrowed ease—  
Nature a soft release
  From men’s unrest.  
  
But, having entered in,  
  Great growths and small  
Show them to men akin—  
  Combatants all!
Sycamore shoulders oak,  
Bines the slim sapling yoke,  
Ivy-spun halters choke  
  Elms stout and tall.  
  
Touches from ash, O wych, 
  Sting you like scorn!  
You, too, brave hollies, twitch  
  Sidelong from thorn.  
Even the rank poplars bear  
Illy a rival’s air,
Cankering in black despair  
  If overborne.  
  
Since, then, no grace I find  
  Taught me of trees,  
Turn I back to my kind,
  Worthy as these.  
There at least smiles abound,  
There discourse trills around,  
There, now and then, are found  
  Life-loyalties.
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