The Wood
Witch-hazel, dogwood, and the maple here; And there the oak and hickory; Linn, poplar, and the beech-tree, far and near As the eased eye can see. Wild-ginger; wahoo, with its wan balloons; And brakes of briers of a twilight green; And fox-grapes plumed with summer; and strung moons Of mandrake flowers between. Deep gold-green ferns, and mosses red and gray, - Mats for what naked myth's white feet? - And, cool and calm, a cascade far away With even-falling beat. Old logs, made sweet with death; rough bits of bark; And tangled twig and knotted root; And sunshine splashes and great pools of dark; And many a wild-bird's flute. Here let me sit until the Indian, Dusk, With copper-colored feet, comes down; Sowing the wildwood with star-fire and musk, And shadows blue and brown. Then side by side with some magician dream, To take the owlet-haunted lane, Half-roofed with vines; led by a firefly gleam, That brings me home again.
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"Witch-hazel, dogwood, and the maple here;..."
This evocative piece by Madison Julius Cawein, titled "The Wood", represents a masterful exploration of classic. The lines capture a profound emotional resonance... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...