Arbor Day Poems



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 half create
And what perceive; well pleased to recognize
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.
by Wordsworth


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Take a dozen little clouds
And a patch of blue;
Take a million raindrops,
As many sunbeams, too.

Take a host of violets,
A wandering little breeze,
And myriads of little leaves
Dancing on the trees.

Then mix them well together,
In the very quickest way,
Showers and sunshine, birds and flowers,
And you'll have an April day.

Author Unknown

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How beauteous is the lordly tree
That scatters cooling shade!
The landscape, O how fair and free
By loving Nature made;
The birds that build in leafy bough
Hail each returning spring,
And in the emerald forests now
They make the Welkin ring.

The tree we plant in years becomes
A monarch old and gray,
And thousands from unbuilded homes
Will bless our Arbor Day;
We plant not for the present time,
But for the days in store.
And those who come from distant clime
Will bless us o'er and o'er.

Hail Arbor Day! With busy hands
With cheerful hearts and free
We come in Nature; loving hands
To plant the bush or tree;
Unto the wide extending plain,
Or to the sun scorched way
We bring the cooling shade again
With joy this Arbor Day.

A Poem for Arbor Day - Author Unknown


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I'd ruther lay out here among the trees,
With the singing birds and the bumble bees,
A-knowing that I can do as I please,
Than to live what folks call a life of ease -
Up thar in the city.

For I don't 'xactly understan'
Where the comfort is for any man,
In walking hot bricks and using a fan,
And enjoying himself as he says he can -
Up thar in the city.

It's kinder lonesome, mebbe, you'll say,
A-livin' out here day after day,
In this kinder easy careless way,
But an hour out here's better'n a day -
Up thar in the city.

As for that, just look at the flowers aroun',
A-peepin' their heads up all over the groun,'
And the fruit a-bendin' the trees 'way down;
You don't find sech things as these in town -
Or, ruther, in the city.

As I said afore, sech things as these -
The flowers, the birds, and the bumble bees,
And a-livin' out here among the trees,
Where you can take your ease and do 's you please -
Make it better'n in the city.

Now, all the talk don't 'mount to snuff
'Bout this kinder life a-being rough,
And I'm sure it's plenty good enough,
And 'tween you and me, 'taint as tough -
As livin' in the city.

Author Unknown


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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.

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.
by W.H. Venable


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