My Teachers

The people of the forest In crimson, green, and tan,— The trees,—have been my teachers To make of me a man.

They awed me with their beauty, Their tender strength and pride. They gladden me as comrades Forever at my side.

I dare not scorn their patience In learning how to grow. They do not waste their powers In rushing to and fro,

Nor spend a moment thinking How soon they have to die,— All occupied enhancing The hour going by.

I love the dark-hued spruces Because their hearts are warm. And the tall pines have taught me To front the winter storm.

Among the April willows In their gold and silver gear, I hear the bees make music And summer drawing near.

Remembered Birch and Lilac Have taught me loveliness, They are so fair and fragrant In their soft-colored dress.

Great Oak, dear Beech and Cedar, Young Cherry dressed in white, They stand with heads uncovered To greet the morning light.

And little trembling Aspen Who always says her prayers, Has taught me by example To tell God all my cares.

And One in gown of scarlet, The first beloved of all, Still tells me tales of glory When autumn days befall.