---

George Meredith - Dirge in Woods
Work rating: Low

     A wind sways the pines,
        And below
    Not a breath of wild air;
    Still as the mosses that glow
    On the flooring and over the lines
    Of the roots here and there.
    The pine-tree drops its dead;
    They are quiet, as under the sea.
    Overhead, overhead
   Rushes life in a race,
   As the clouds the clouds chase;
       And we go,
   And we drop like the fruits of the tree,
       Even we,
       Even so.
Source
The script ran 0.001 seconds.