MY
TEACHERS
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THE
people of the forest
In crimson, green, and tan,—
The tree,—have been my teachers
To make of me a man.
They awed me with their beauty,
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Their
tender strength and pride.
They gladden me as comrades
Forever at my side.
I dare not scorn their patience
In learning how to grow.
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They
do not waste their powers
In rushing to and fro,
Nor spend a moment thinking
How soon they have to die,—
All occupied enhancing
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| The
hour going by.
I love the dark-hued spruces
Because their hearts are warm.
And the tall pines have taught me
To front the winter storm.
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Among the April willows
In their gold and silver gear,
I hear the bees make music
And summer drawing near.
Remembered Birch and Lilac
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Have
taught me loveliness,
They are so fair and fragrant
In their soft-coloured dress.
Great Oak, dear Beech and Cedar,
Young Cherry dressed in white,
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They
stand with heads uncovered
To greet the morning light.
And little trembling Aspen
Who always says her prayers,
Has taught me by example
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35 |
| To tell
God all my cares.
And One in gown of scarlet,
The first beloved of all,
Still tells me tales of glory
When autumn days befall.
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