Hymn of the Forests (excerpt)
by Fiona McLeod (William Sharpe)
We are the harps which the winds play,
A myriad tones in one vast sound
That the earth hearkens night and day —
A ceaseless music swaying round
The whole wide world, each voiceful tree
Echoing the wave-chants of the sea.
For even as inland waves that moan
But break not ‘midst the unflowing green
Our trees are: and when tempests groan
And howl our frantic boughs between,
Our tumult is as when the deep
Struggles with winds that o’er it sweep.
‘Neath bitter northern skies we stand,
Silent amidst the unmelting snows,
Gaunt warders of the desolate land
Silent, save when the keen wind blows
The drifting wreaths about our feet,
Then moan we mournful music sweet…