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James Russell Lowell - The Maple
Work rating: Low

The Maple puts her corals on in May,
While loitering frosts about the lowlands cling,
To be in tune with what the robins sing,
Plastering new log-huts `mid her branches gray;
But when the Autumn southward turns away,
Then in her veins burns most the blood of Spring.
And every leaf, intensely blossoming,
Makes the year`s sunset pale the set of day.
O Youth unprescient, were it only so
With trees you plant, and in whose shade reclined,
Thinking their drifting blooms Fate`s coldest snow,
You carve dear names upon the faithful rind,
Nor in that vernal stem the cross foreknow
That Age shall bear, silent, yet unresigned!
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