The Love of Nature

 THE LOVE OF NATURE
by Wordsworth

The sounding cataract
Haunted me like a passion ; the tall rock,
The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood,
Their colors and their forms, were then to me
An appetite, a feeling and a love
That had no need of a remoter charm
By thought supplied, or any interest
Unborrowed from the eye.

That time is past,
And all its aching joys are now no more,
And all its dizzy raptures. Not for this
Faint I, nor mourn, nor murmur ; other gifts
Have followed, for such loss, I would believe,
Abundant recompense. For I have learned
To look on nature, not as in the hour
Of thoughtless youth, but hearing oftimes
The still sad music of humanity,
Nor harsh, nor grating, though of ample power
To chasten and subdue.

And I have felt
A presence that disturbs me with the joy
Of elevated thoughts ; a sense sublime
Of something far more deeply interfused,
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns,
And the round ocean, and the living air,
And the blue sky, and in the mind of man ;
A motion and a spirit that impels
All thinking things, all objects of all thought.
And rolls through all things.

Therefore am I still
A lover of the meadows and the woods
And mountains, and of all that we behold
From this green earth ; of all the mighty world
Of eye and ear, both what they have create
And what perceive ; well pleased to recogni/e
In nature, and the language of the sense,
The anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse,
The guide, the guardian of my heart, and soul
Of all my moral being

Visit Midwestern Arboretums:

• Missouri Botanical Garden
• Bartlett Arboretum
• Iowa Arboretum
• The Lincoln Park Conservancy

The Oak

THE OAK by George Hill

A glorious tree is the old gray oak;
He has stood for a thousand years
Has stood and frowned
On the trees around,
Like a king among his peers;
As around their king they stand, so now,
When the flowers their pale leaves fold
The tall trees round him stand, arrayed
In their robes of purple and gold.
He has stood like a tower
Through sun and shower,
And dared the winds to battle ;
He has heard the hail,
As from plates of mail,
From his own limbs shaken, rattle ;
He has tossed them about, and shorn the tops
(When the storm has roused his might)
Of the forest trees, as a strong man doth
The heads of his foes in fight.

The Oaks of Earth:

• Oak trees: kings of biodiversity
• Oaks of the world
• Key to Diseases of Oaks in the Landscape
• Why you should plant oaks? 

Plant A Tree

PLANT A TREE by Lucy Larcom

He who plants a tree
Plants a hope.
Rootlets up through fibres blindly grope;
Leaves unfold into horizons free.
So man's life must climb
From the clouds of time
Unto heavens sublime.
Canst thou prophesy, thou little tree,
What the glory of thy boughs shall be?

He who plants a tree
Plants a joy;
Plants a comfort that will never cloy.
Every day a fresh reality.
Beautiful and strong,
To whoso shelter throng
Creatures blithe with song.
If thou couldst but know thou happy tree,
Of the bliss that shall inhabit thee.

He who plants a tree
He plants peace.
Under its green curtains jargons cease,
Leaf and zephyr murmur soothingly;
Shadows soft with sleep
Down tired eyelids creep,
Balm of slumber deep.
Never hast thou dreamed, thou blessed tree,
Of the benediction thou shalt be.

He who plants a tree
He plants youth;
Vigor won for centuries in sooth;
Life of time, that hints eternity!
Boughs their strength uprear,
New shoots every year
On old growths appear.
Thou shalt teach the ages, sturdy tree,
Youth of soul is immortality.

He who plants a tree
He plants love;
Tents of coolness spreading out above
Wayfarers, he may not live to see
Gifts that grow are best;
Hands that bless are blest;
Plant, life does the rest!
Heaven and earth help him who plants a tree,
And his work its own reward shall be.

Plant a Tree Projects:

• The Nature Conservancy: "A Billion Begins with One
• Plant-A-Tree Program with U.S. Forest Service
• STEM: Plant A Tree
• The Canopy Project 

The Forest Trees

 THE FOREST TREES by Eliza Cook

Up with your heads, ye sylvan lords,
Wave proudly in the breeze,
For our cradle bands and coffin boards
Must come from the forest trees.

We bless ye for your summer shade,
When our weak limbs fail and tire;
Our thanks are due for your winter aid,
When we pile the bright log tire.

Oh! where would be our rule on the sea,
And the fame of the sailor band,
Were it not for the oak and cloud-crowned pine,
That spring on the quiet land?

When the ribs and masts of the good ship live,
And weather the gale with ease,
Take his glass from the tar who will not give
A health to the forest trees.

Ye lend to life its earliest joy,
And wait on its latest page;
In the circling hoop for the rosy boy,
And the easy chair for age.

The old man totters on his way,
With footsteps short and slow ;
But without the stick for his help and stay
Not a yard's length could he go.

The hazel twig in the stripling's hand
Hath magic power to please ;
And the trusty staff and slender wand
Are plucked from the forest trees.

Ye are seen in the shape of the old hand loom
And the merry ringing flail;
Ye shine in the dome of the monarch's home
And the sacred altar rail.

In the rustic porch, the wainscotted wall,
In the gay triumphal car;
In the rude built hut or the banquet hall,
No matter! there ye are!

Then up with your heads, ye sylvan lords!
Wave proudly in the breeze;
From our cradle bands to our coffin boards
We're in debt to the forest trees.

Arboretums and Gardens:

• Viles Arboretum
• Bayard Cutting Arboretum
• The Arboretum At Penn State

A Forest Hymn

 A FOREST HYMN by Bryant

The groves were God's first temples. Ere man learned
To hew the shaft, and lay the architrave,
And spread the roof above them ere he framed
The lofty vault, to gather and roll back
The sound of anthems; in the darkling wood,
Amid the cool and silence, he knelt down,
And offered to the Mightiest solemn thanks
And supplication. For his simple heart
Might not resist the sacred influence
Which, from the stilly twilight of the place,
And from the gray old trunks that high in heaven
Mingled their mossy boughs, and from the sound
Of the invisible breath that swayed at once
All their green tops, stole over him, and bowed
His spirit with the thought of boundless power
And inaccessible majesty. Ah why,
Should we, in the world's riper years, neglect
God's ancient sanctuaries, and adore
Only among the crowd, and under roofs
That our frail hands have raised? Let me at least,
Here in the shadow of this aged wood,
Offer one hymn thrice happy, if it find
Acceptance in His ear.

Father, thy hand
Hath reared these venerable columns. Thou
Didst weave this verdant roof. Thou didst look down
Upon the naked earth, and, forthwith, rose
All these fair ranks of trees. They, in thy sun,
Budded, and shook their green leaves in thy breeze,
And shot toward heaven. The century-living crow
Whose birth was in their tops, grew old and died
Among their branches, till at last they stood,
As now they stand, massy, and tall, and dark,
Fit shrine for humble worshipper to hold
Communion with his Maker.

Thou hast not left
Thyself without a witness in these shades.
Of thy perfections. Grandeur, strength and grace
Are here to speak of Thee. This mighty oak
By whose immovable stem I stand and seem
Almost annihilated not a prince,
In all that proud old world beyond the deep,
E'er wore his crown as loftily as he
Wears the green coronal of leaves with which
Thy hand has graced him. Nestled at his root
Is beauty, such as blooms not in the glare
Of the broad sun. That delicate forest flower,
With scented breath and look so like a smile,
Seems, as it issues from the shapeless mould,
An emanation of the indwelling Life,
A visible token of the upholding Love,
That are the soul of this wide universe.

Gardens and Arboretums:

• WSU Arboretum & Wildlife Conservation Center
• Fullerton Arboretum
• UCI School of Biological Sciences

Planting for The Future

 PLANTING FOR THE FUTURE by Harriet Wright

In youth's glad morning hour,
All life a holiday doth seem;
We glance adown time's vista long
Beholding but the sunny gleam.

The happy hearts that meet to-day,
In a loving band are drawn more near
By the loving end that crowns our work,
Planting trees for a future year.

O tender trees! ye may thrive and grow,
And spread your branches to the sun,
When the youthful band assembled here,
Has reaped life's harvest, every one.

When the shining eye shall lose its fire,
When the rosy cheek shall fade away,
Thou'lt drink of the dew and bask in the light
Forgetful of this Arbor Day.

The bounding heart, the active limb,
The merry laugh and sparkling jest,
Be mingled with the things of earth,
And sink to solitude and rest.

But o'er this ground with branching arms,
These trees shall cast their leafy shade,
And other hearts as light and gay,
Shall reap the shelter we have made.

So let our planting ever be, 
Something in store for a future year,
When homeward with our harvest bound,
We'll meet the Master without fear.

Help Build The New Forests:

• How China turned the desert into green forests
• 5 Most Epic Earth Healing Projects
• Restoring dry land in Tanzania
• Lebanon: Planting cedar trees in a country in crisis
• 50 Years Ago, This Was a Wasteland, Now See It!
• We bought land in Scotland to plant a forest!
• Man spends 30 years turning degraded land into massive forest.

Forest Song

FOREST SONG by W. H. Venable

A song for the beautiful trees!
A song for the forest grand,
The garden of God's own land,
The pride of His centuries.
Hurrah! for the kingly oak,
For the maple, the sylvan queen,
For the lords of the emerald cloak,
For the ladies in living green.

For the beautiful trees a song,
The peers of a glorious realm,
Linden, the ash, and the elm,
The poplar stately and strong
Hurrah! for the beech-tree trim,
For the hickory stanch at core,
For the locust thorny and grim,
For the silvery sycamore.

A song from the palm, the pine,
And for every tree that grows
From the desolate zone of snows
To the zone of the burning line.
Hurrah! for the warders proud
Of the mountain-side and vale,
That challenge the thunder-cloud,
And buffet the stormy gale.

A song for the forest aisled,
With its gothic roof sublime,
The solemn temple of time,
Where man becometh a child,
As he lists to the anthem-roll
Of the wind in the solitude,
The hymn which telleth his soul
That God is the voice of the wood.

So long as the rivers flow,
So long as the mountains rise,
May the forest sing to the skies,
And shelter the earth below.
Hurrah! for the beautiful trees,
Hurrah! for the forest grand,
The pride of His centuries.
The garden of God's own land.

The Forest & The Worship & God's Creative Nature:

• God of Wonders
• Angus Dei-Worthy
• Your Love Oh Lord
• Things of Heaven 
• I Speak Jesus
• Lord I Need You

The heart of the tree...

 THE HEART OF THE TREE

What does he plant who plants a tree?
He plants a friend of sun and sky;
He plants the flag of breezes free;
The shaft of beauty, towering high;
He plants a home to heaven anigh
For song and mother-croon of bird
In hushed and happy twilight heard
The treble of heaven's harmony
These things he plants who plants a tree.

What does he plant who plants a tree?
He plants cool shade and tender rain,
And seed and bud of days to be,
And years that fade and flush again;
He plants the glory of the plain;
He plants the forest's heritage;
The harvest of a coming age;
The joy that unborn eyes shall see
These things he plants who plants a tree.

What does he plant who plants a tree?
He plants, in sap and leaf and wood,
In love of home and loyalty
And far-cast thought of civic good
His blessing on the neighborhood
Who in the hollow of His hand
Holds all the growth of all our land
A nation's growth from sea to sea
Stirs in his heart who plants a tree.

The Heart of A Tree:

• How a tree works...
• How Trees Grow
• How Trees Grow and Develop?
• How tall can a tree grow?

Woodman, Spare That Tree!

 WOODMAN, SPARE THAT TREE by George P. Morris

Woodman, spare that tree!
Touch not a single bough!
In youth it sheltered me,
And I'll protect it now.
'Twas my forefather's hand
That placed it near his cot,
There, woodman, let it stand;
Thy axe shall harm it not! 

The old familiar tree,
Whose glory and renown
Are spread o'er land and sea,
And wouldst thou hack it down?
Woodman, forbear thy stroke!
Cut not its earth-bound ties;
Oh, spare that aged oak,
Now towering to the skies!

When but an idle boy
I sought its grateful shade;
In all their gushing joy,
Here, too, my sisters played.
My mother kissed me here;
My father pressed my hand
Forgive the foolish tear;
But let that old oak stand.

My heart-strings round thee cling,
Close as thy bark, old friend;
Here shall the wild-bird sing,
And still thy branches, bend.
Old tree ! the storm still brave!
And, woodman, leave the spot;
While I've a hand to save,
Thy axe shall harm it not.

Forests Under Threat or Gone:

• Deforestation and Forest Degradation
• World's forests under threat from economic and environmental crises
• Forests Under Threat Tropical and Taiga Forests
• Learn about redwood forests from Sempervirens Fund
• The Threats To The Redwoods

Invitation

INVITATION by Charles Sangster

Oh, come away to the grave old woods
Ere the skies are tinged with light,
Ere the slumbering leaves of the gloomy trees
Have thrown off the mists of night ;
Ere the birds are up,
Or the floweret's cup
Js drained of its fresh'ning dew,
Or the bubbling rill
Kissing the hill
Breaks on the distant view;
Oh, such is the hour
To feel the power
Of the quiet, grave old woods!
Then, while sluggards dream,
Of some dismal theme,
Let us stroll,
With prayerful soul,
Through the depths of the grave old woods.

Oh, come away to the bright old woods,
As the sun ascends the skies,
While the birdlings sing their morning hymn,
And each leaf in the grove replies;
When the golden-zoned bee
Flies from flower to tree
Seeking sweets for its honeyed cell,
And the voice of praise
Sounds its varied lays
From the depths of each quiet dell:
Oh, such is the hour
To feel the power
Of the magic bright old woods!
Then, while sluggards dream
Of some trifling theme,
Let us stroll,
With studious soul,
Through the depths of the bright old woods.

Some of the oldest forests on Earth:

• Kakamega Forest
• Yakushima in the interior of Yaku Island
• The Bialowieza Forest
• The Tarkine Forest Reserve

The Ivy Green

THE IVY GREEN

Oh, a dainty plant is the ivy green,
That creepeth o'er ruins old!
Of right choice food are his meals I ween,
In his cell so lone and cold.
The walls must be crumbled, the stones decayed,
To pleasure his dainty whim ;
And the mold'ring dust that years have made
Is a merry meal for him.
Creeping where no life is seen,
A rare old plant is the ivy green.

Fast he stealeth on, though he wears no wings,
And a staunch old heart has he!
How closely he twineth, how tightly he clings,
To his friend, the huge oak tree!
And slyly he traileth along the ground,
And his leaves he gently waves,
And he joyously twines and hugs around
The rich mould of dead men's graves.
Creeping where no life is seen,
A rare old plant is the ivy green.

Whole ages have fled, and their works decayed,
And nations scattered been;
But the stout old ivy shall never fade
From its hale and hearty green.
The brave old plant in its lonely days
Shall fatten upon the past;
For the stateliest building man can raise
Is the ivy's food at last.
Creeping where no life is seen,
A rare old plant is the ivy green.

CHARLES DICKENS

The Good Daughter

 The Good Daughter

MY merry little daughter
Was climbing out of bed -
"Don't you think I'm a good girl,''
My little daughter said;
"For all day long this lovely day
And all day long to-morrow,
I haven't done a single thing
To give my mother sorrow!"