Strife
The wind fought with the angry trees. All morning in immense unease They wrestled, and ruin strawed the ground, And the north sky frowned. The oak and aspen arms were held Defiant, but the death was knelled Of slender saplings, snappy boughs, Twigs brittle as men's vows. How moaned the trees the struggle through! Anger almost to madness grew. The aspen screamed, and came a roar Of the great wind locked in anguish sore, Desolate with defeat ... and then Quiet fell again: The trees slept quiet as great cows That lie at noon under broad boughs. How pure, how strange the calm; but hist!... Was it the trees by the wind kissed? Or from afar, where the wind's hid, A throb, a sob?
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"The wind fought with the angry trees...."
John Frederick Freeman's contribution to classic is further solidified by the brilliance found in "Strife"... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...