Pale beech and pine so blue,
    Set in one clay, 
Bough to bough cannot you
    Live out your day? 
When the rains skim and skip,
Why mar sweet comradeship,
Blighting with poison-drip
    Neighbourly 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
Lothly 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.