[Pg 17]

 The Spruces of the Forest

Unhappy trees, beneath whose graceful branches

No lovers walk, no children ever play;

Who never hear the sound of girlish laughter,

But pass in gloom your silent lives away;

I wonder if ye heed me as I press

My heart to yours in utter loneliness.

I wonder if ye see me as I wander

Along the trail no feet but mine e'er tread;

I wonder if ye hear me when I murmur

The name of one who might as well be dead

So far away, so very far is she—

I wonder if ye heed and pity me?

[Pg 18]

[Pg 18]

 The Wild Lover

Sway your lithe arms, ye graceful trees,

The wind is out a-wooing!

Ye may be many, yet he sees

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