Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away; for now the winter is past, the rain is over and gone. The flowers appear on the earth...; the time of singing has come, and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land. The fig tree puts forth its figs, and the vines are in blossom; they give forth fragrance. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
The tree the tempest with a crash of wood Throws down in front of us is not to bar... Our passage to our journey's end for good, But just to ask us who we think we are....LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Tree at my window, window tree, My sash is lowered when night comes on;... But let there never be curtain drawn Between you and me.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
On Thursday morning going through the quiet woods... it is not Thursday. To dwellers in a wood almost every species of tree has its voice as well as its feature. At the passing of the breeze the fir-trees sob and moan no less distinctly than they rock; the holly whistles as it battles with itself; the ash hisses amid its quiverings; the beech rustles while its flat boughs rise and fall. And winter, which modifies the note of such trees as shed their leaves, does not destroy its individuality.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
There was once a man who said, "God... Must think it exceedingly odd If he finds that this tree Continues to be When there's no one about in the Quad."LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »