Pine Trees

Down through the heart of the dim woods The laden, jolting waggons come. Tall pines, chained together, They carry; stems straight and bare, Now no more in their own solitudes With proud heads to rock and hum; Now at the will of men to fare Away from their brethren, their forest friends In the still woods; through wild weather Alone to endure to the world's ends: Soon to feel the power of the North Careering over dark waves' foam; Soon to exchange the steady earth For heaving decks; the scents of their home, Honeyed wild--thyme, gorse and heather, For the sting of the spray, the bitter air.