- Published on
Trees
Trees just stand around all day,
and sun themselves and rest.
They never walk or run away,
and surely that is best,
For otherwise, how would a
squirrel or robin find its nest?
By Aileen Fisher
Aileen Lucia Fisher was born on 9 September 1906 in Iron River, Michigan, United States of America. She became a writer of poetry, children’s books, biographies, plays, and magazine articles. Aileen Lucia Fisher passed on at 96 years of age on 2 December 2002 in Boulder, Colorado, United States of America.
We are MFOL! . . . have you walked among the trees today . . .
Trees just stand around all day,
and sun themselves and rest.
They never walk or run away,
and surely that is best,
For otherwise, how would a
squirrel or robin find its nest?
By Aileen Fisher
Aileen Lucia Fisher was born on 9 September 1906 in Iron River, Michigan, United States of America. She became a writer of poetry, children’s books, biographies, plays, and magazine articles. Aileen Lucia Fisher passed on at 96 years of age on 2 December 2002 in Boulder, Colorado, United States of America.
We are MFOL! . . . have you walked among the trees today . . .
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Various Artists - Click Or Tap On Arrow To Play Or Replay Music Or Audio Or Refresh This Page - Country Ways
- Published on
Trees
Trees are the kindest things I know,
They do no harm, they simply grow,
And spread a shade for sleepy cows,
And gather birds among their boughs.
Trees give us fruit in leaves above,
And wood to make our houses of,
And in the Spring grow buds of green,
Trees are the kindest things I know.
By Author Unknown
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read Kindnesses And Good Deeds Gathered By David Hugh Beaumont.
Trees are the kindest things I know,
They do no harm, they simply grow,
And spread a shade for sleepy cows,
And gather birds among their boughs.
Trees give us fruit in leaves above,
And wood to make our houses of,
And in the Spring grow buds of green,
Trees are the kindest things I know.
By Author Unknown
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read Kindnesses And Good Deeds Gathered By David Hugh Beaumont.
- Published on
Arbor Day
Arbor Day, Arbor Day,
See, the fields are fresh and green;
All is bright cheerful sight,
After Winter’s night.
Birds are flying in the air,
All we see is fresh and fair;
Bowers green, now are seen,
Flowers peep between.
Swaying trees, swaying trees,
Rocking gently in the breeze,
Dressed so gay, fine array,
For this Arbor Day
While we plant our tree so dear,
All the others list to hear,
How we sing, in the spring,
And our voices ring.
Here we stand, here we stand,
Round the tree, a royal band;
Music floats, cheering notes,
Sweetly, gaily floats.
March along with heads so high,
While our tree is standing nigh;
Step away, light and gay,
On this Arbor Day.
By Author Unknown: can be sung to the same tune as that of “Lightly Row”
Arbor Day, Arbor Day,
See, the fields are fresh and green;
All is bright cheerful sight,
After Winter’s night.
Birds are flying in the air,
All we see is fresh and fair;
Bowers green, now are seen,
Flowers peep between.
Swaying trees, swaying trees,
Rocking gently in the breeze,
Dressed so gay, fine array,
For this Arbor Day
While we plant our tree so dear,
All the others list to hear,
How we sing, in the spring,
And our voices ring.
Here we stand, here we stand,
Round the tree, a royal band;
Music floats, cheering notes,
Sweetly, gaily floats.
March along with heads so high,
While our tree is standing nigh;
Step away, light and gay,
On this Arbor Day.
By Author Unknown: can be sung to the same tune as that of “Lightly Row”
- Published on
Trees
The Oak is called the king of trees,
The Aspen quivers in the breeze,
The Poplar grows up straight and tall,
The Peach tree spreads along the wall,
The Sycamore gives pleasant shade,
The Willow droops in watery glade,
The Fir tree useful in timber gives,
The Beech amid the forest lives.
By Sara Coleridge Coleridge: “Pretty Lessons in Verse for Good Children: With Some Lessons in Latin in Easy Rhyme” (1853), page 12
Sara Coleridge Coleridge was born on 23 November 1802 in Keswick, Cumberland, England, as a daughter of Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772 - 1834) and Sara Fricker Coleridge (1770 - 1845). She was married in September 1829 to her cousin, Henry Nelson Coleridge. She became a writer, an editor, a poet, and a translator. Sara Coleridge Coleridge passed on at 49 years of age on 3 May 1852 in London, England.
The Oak is called the king of trees,
The Aspen quivers in the breeze,
The Poplar grows up straight and tall,
The Peach tree spreads along the wall,
The Sycamore gives pleasant shade,
The Willow droops in watery glade,
The Fir tree useful in timber gives,
The Beech amid the forest lives.
By Sara Coleridge Coleridge: “Pretty Lessons in Verse for Good Children: With Some Lessons in Latin in Easy Rhyme” (1853), page 12
Sara Coleridge Coleridge was born on 23 November 1802 in Keswick, Cumberland, England, as a daughter of Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772 - 1834) and Sara Fricker Coleridge (1770 - 1845). She was married in September 1829 to her cousin, Henry Nelson Coleridge. She became a writer, an editor, a poet, and a translator. Sara Coleridge Coleridge passed on at 49 years of age on 3 May 1852 in London, England.
- Published on
Arbor Day
I cannot dig a great big hole
And set a tree into it,
But I can make a little hole
And I am going to do it.
Then in the little hole I’ll drop
This acorn brown and shiny,
And that way I can plant a tree
Although I am so tiny.
By Author Unknown
I cannot dig a great big hole
And set a tree into it,
But I can make a little hole
And I am going to do it.
Then in the little hole I’ll drop
This acorn brown and shiny,
And that way I can plant a tree
Although I am so tiny.
By Author Unknown
- Published on
The Heart Of The Tree
What does he plant who plants a tree?
He plants the 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 joys 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
Stir in his heart who plants a tree.
By Author Unknown
What does he plant who plants a tree?
He plants the 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 joys 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
Stir in his heart who plants a tree.
By Author Unknown
- Published on
Our Tree
Into the sunbeams’ keeping
The mellow sunbeams bright.
We give our tree, to nourished be,
By the warm, life-giving light.
The gentle breezes, tender,
That rustle the tree-tops high,
Will whisper to it, how stately
It may be, in the bye-and-bye.
And the rain and the dew will moisten
And freshen the rootlets light.
And we shall soon see in our spreading tree,
A rare and beauteous sight.
And the birds will seek its shelter,
How glad we then shall be,
That on Arbor Day in the joyous May,
We planted a fair young tree.
Let us then rejoice and sing,
That in the gladsome spring,
The springtime of our lives and of the year,
We have marked again the day
Which we welcome every May,
And have planted thus a tender sapling here.
By Jennie D. Moore
Into the sunbeams’ keeping
The mellow sunbeams bright.
We give our tree, to nourished be,
By the warm, life-giving light.
The gentle breezes, tender,
That rustle the tree-tops high,
Will whisper to it, how stately
It may be, in the bye-and-bye.
And the rain and the dew will moisten
And freshen the rootlets light.
And we shall soon see in our spreading tree,
A rare and beauteous sight.
And the birds will seek its shelter,
How glad we then shall be,
That on Arbor Day in the joyous May,
We planted a fair young tree.
Let us then rejoice and sing,
That in the gladsome spring,
The springtime of our lives and of the year,
We have marked again the day
Which we welcome every May,
And have planted thus a tender sapling here.
By Jennie D. Moore
- Published on
What Do We Plant?
What do we plant when we plant the tree?
We plant the ship, which will cross the sea.
We plant the mast to carry the sails;
We plant the planks to withstand the gales -
The keel, the keelson, the beam, the knee;
We plant the ship when we plant the tree.
What do we plant when we plant the tree?
We plant the houses for you and me.
We plant the rafters, the shingles, the floors,
We plant the studding, the lath, the doors,
The beams and siding, all parts that be;
We plant the house when we plant the tree.
What do we plant when we plant the tree?
A thousand things that we daily see;
We plant the spire that out-towers the crag,
We plant the staff for our country’s flag,
We plant the shade, from the hot sun free;
We plant all these when we plant the tree.
By Henry Abbey
Henry Lamont Abbey was born on 11 July 1842 in Rondout, New York, United States of America. He was married to Mary Louise Dubois on 26 December 1865. He became a newspaper editor, a banker, and a poet. His collections of poetry books include “May Dreams” (1862), “Ralph and Other Poems” (1866), “Stories in Verse” (1869), “Ballads of Good Deeds” (1872), “Poems by Henry Abbey” (1879), and “The City of Success and Other Poems” (1883). Henry Lamont Abbey passed on at 68 years of age on 7 June 1911 in Tenafly, New Jersey, United States of America.
What do we plant when we plant the tree?
We plant the ship, which will cross the sea.
We plant the mast to carry the sails;
We plant the planks to withstand the gales -
The keel, the keelson, the beam, the knee;
We plant the ship when we plant the tree.
What do we plant when we plant the tree?
We plant the houses for you and me.
We plant the rafters, the shingles, the floors,
We plant the studding, the lath, the doors,
The beams and siding, all parts that be;
We plant the house when we plant the tree.
What do we plant when we plant the tree?
A thousand things that we daily see;
We plant the spire that out-towers the crag,
We plant the staff for our country’s flag,
We plant the shade, from the hot sun free;
We plant all these when we plant the tree.
By Henry Abbey
Henry Lamont Abbey was born on 11 July 1842 in Rondout, New York, United States of America. He was married to Mary Louise Dubois on 26 December 1865. He became a newspaper editor, a banker, and a poet. His collections of poetry books include “May Dreams” (1862), “Ralph and Other Poems” (1866), “Stories in Verse” (1869), “Ballads of Good Deeds” (1872), “Poems by Henry Abbey” (1879), and “The City of Success and Other Poems” (1883). Henry Lamont Abbey passed on at 68 years of age on 7 June 1911 in Tenafly, New Jersey, United States of America.
- Published on
Little By Little
“Little by little,” an acorn said,
As it slowly sank in its mossy bed,
“I am improving every day,
Hidden deep in the earth away.”
Little by little it sipped the dew,
Little by little each day it grew;
Downward it sent out a threadlike root,
Up in the air sprang a tiny shoot.
Day after day and year after year
Little by little the leaves appear;
And the slender branches spread far and wide
Till the mighty oak is the forest’s pride.
By Author Unknown
“Little by little,” an acorn said,
As it slowly sank in its mossy bed,
“I am improving every day,
Hidden deep in the earth away.”
Little by little it sipped the dew,
Little by little each day it grew;
Downward it sent out a threadlike root,
Up in the air sprang a tiny shoot.
Day after day and year after year
Little by little the leaves appear;
And the slender branches spread far and wide
Till the mighty oak is the forest’s pride.
By Author Unknown
- Published on
Plant A Tree
He who plants a tree
Plants a hope.
Rootlets up through fibers blindly grope;
Leaves unfold into horizons free.
So man’s life must climb
From the clods 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 whose 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.
By Lucy Larcom
Lucy Larcom was born on 5 March 1824 in Beverly, Massachusetts, United States of America. She became a schoolteacher, a writer, and a poet. Lucy Larcom passed on at 69 years of age on 17 April 1893 in Boston, Massachusetts, United States of America.
He who plants a tree
Plants a hope.
Rootlets up through fibers blindly grope;
Leaves unfold into horizons free.
So man’s life must climb
From the clods 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 whose 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.
By Lucy Larcom
Lucy Larcom was born on 5 March 1824 in Beverly, Massachusetts, United States of America. She became a schoolteacher, a writer, and a poet. Lucy Larcom passed on at 69 years of age on 17 April 1893 in Boston, Massachusetts, United States of America.
