The whispering pines, eternal, Stand guard over the sleeping earth, Frost kisses each needle, A crown of winter’s breath, In the hush of falling snow, Nature sleeps, its pulse a quiet throb.
- Lola Ridge
The whispering pines, eternal, Stand guard over the sleeping earth, Frost kisses each needle, A crown of winter’s breath, In the hush of falling snow, Nature sleeps, its pulse a quiet throb.