Pine Trees
Down through the heart of the dim woods
The laden, jolting waggons come.
Tall pines, chained together,
They carry; stems straight and bare,
Now no more in their own solitudes
With proud heads to rock and hum;
Now at the will of men to fare
Away from their brethren, their forest friends
In the still woods; through wild weather
Alone to endure to the world’s ends:
Soon to feel the power of the North
Careering over dark waves’ foam;
Soon to exchange the steady earth
For heaving decks; the scents of their home,
Honeyed wild—thyme, gorse and heather,
For the sting of the spray, the bitter air.
