In A Wook

PALE beech and pine-tree blue,
  Set in one clay,
  Bough to bough cannot you
  Bide out your day?
  When the rains skim and skip,
  Why mar sweet comradeship,
  Blighting with poison-drip
  Neighborly spray?

  Heart-halt and spirit-lame,
  City-opprest,
  Unto this wood I came
  As to a nest;
  Dreaming that sylvan peace
  Offered the harrowed ease--
  Nature a soft release
  From men's unrest.

  But, having entered in,
  Great growths and small
  Show them to men akin--
  Combatants all!
  Sycamore shoulders oak,
  Bines the slim sapling yoke,
  Ivy-spun halters choke
  Elms stout and tall.

  Touches from ash, O wych,
  Sting you like scorn!
  You, too, brave hollies, twitch
  Sidelong from thorn.
  Even the rank poplars bear
  Illy a rival's air,
  Cankering in black despair
  If overborne.

  Since, then, no grace I find
  Taught me of trees,
  Turn I back to my kind,
  Worthy as these.
  There at least smiles abound,
  There discourse trills around,
  There, now and then, are found
  Life-loyalties.

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Thomas Hardy

Thomas Hardy, was a Scottish Minister, Moderator of the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland and Professor of Eccesiastical History at Edinburgh University. more…

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"In A Wook" Poetry.net. STANDS4 LLC, 2019. Web. 20 Sep. 2019. <https://www.poetry.net/poem/36406/in-a-wook>.

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