AN ARBOR DAY EXERCISE First Pupil. TO HIM who in the love of nature holds Second Pupil. -BRYANT. For Nature beats in perfect tune, And rounds with rhyme her every rune, Or hide underground her alchemy. But it carves the bow of beauty there, The wood is wiser far than thou; The wood and wave each other know. But to each thought and thing allied, Rooted in the mighty Heart. Third Pupil. -EMERSON. One impulse from a vernal wood Than all the sages can. Fourth Pupil. -WORDSWORTH. Faint murmurs from the pine-tops reach my ear, As if a harp-string — touched in some far sphere— Vibrating in the lucid atmosphere, Let the soft south wind waft its music here. -T. B. ALDRICH. Fifth Pupil. Old trees in their living state are the only things that money cannot command. Rivers leave their beds, run into cities and traverse mountains for it; obelisks and arches, palaces and temples, amphitheaters and pyramids rise up like exhalations at its bidding. Even the free spirit of man, the only thing great on earth, crouches and cowers in its presence. It passes away and vanishes before venerable trees. --LANDOR. TREES ANONYMOUS For a Class Exercise First Pupil. Forest trees have always "haunted me like a passion." Let us summon a few of them, prime favorites, and familiar to the American forest. Second Pupil. First the Aspen, what soft silver-gray tints on its leaves, how smooth its mottled bark, its whole shape how delicate and sensitive! Third Pupil. Next the Elm, how noble the lift and droop of its branches; it has the shape of the Greek vase, such lavish foliage, running down the trunk to the very roots, as if a rich vine were wreathed around it! Fourth Pupil. Then the Maple, what a splendid cupola of leaves it builds up into the sky, and in autumn, its crimson is so rich, one might term it the blush of the woods! Fifth Pupil. And the Beech, how cheerful its snow-spotted trunk looks in the deep woods! The pattering of the beechnut upon the dead leaves, in the hazy days of our Indian summer, makes a music like the dripping of a rill, in the mournful forest. Sixth Pupil. The Birch is a great favorite of mine. How like a shaft of ivory it gleams in the daylight woods! How the flame of moonlight kindles it into columned pearl! Seventh Pupil. Now the Oak, what a tree it is! First a tiny needle rising grandly toward the sun, a wreath of green to endure for ages. The child gathers the violet at its foot; as a boy he pockets its acorns; as a man he looks at its heights towering up and makes it the emblem of his ambition. Eighth Pupil. We now come to the Pine, of all my greatest favorite. The oak may be king of the lowlands, but the pine is king of the hills. There he lifts his haughty front like the warrior he is, and when he is roused to meet the onslaught of the storm, the battlecry he sends down the wind is heard above all the voices of the greenwood. Ninth Pupil. We will merely touch, in passing, upon the Hemlock, with its masses of evergreen needles, and the Cedar with its misty blue berries; and the Sumac with its clusters of crimson, and the Witch-hazel, smiling at winter, with its curled, sharp-cut flowers of golden velvet. Tenth Pupil Did you ever, while wandering in the forest about the first of June, have your eyes dazzled at a distance with what you supposed to be a tree ladened with snow? It was the Dogwood, glittering in its white blossoms. It brightens the last days of spring with its floral beauty. Eleventh Pupil. While admiring the dogwood, an odor of exquisite sweetness may salute you; and, if at all conversant in tree knowledge, you will know it is the Basswood, clustered with yellow blossoms, golden bells pouring out such strong, delicious fragrance, you must all realize the idea of Shelley. All. And the hyacinths, purple and white and blue, |