Classic Poem

The wet, dark woods — monotonous tall pines,
The heavy velvet mat of brown below,
And straight shafts rising, sodden black with rain,
In clean, long lines.

From stem to stem, a high-hung solemn pall,
Thick clouds of blue-green needles cover all;
But see, across the gloom, again! again!
The dogwood's flame of snow!