Birch Trees

I see the silver birch by the pooling brook, So slim and tall; a mask of tender shade Coddling the woodland where it’s wisely took Against the sun’s embrace, to lend the glade.

Hum to thrive when winds vibrate that bough Could whisper long unseen; even now, The beauty beaming timeless in the flame To hold my heart’s desires; its ’bark takes aim, Yet vally enspheres growth’s luscious whisks. It parts with wide rings, mark the reverent high Whose stance revived says time is but a sigh!

And in each season, holds a painted freeze, When sunlight spills the wood; with ambers’ tease

• Ralph Waldo Emerson