A poem lovely as a tree.
Against the sweet earth's flowing breast;
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A nest of robins in her hair;
Who intimately lives with rain.
But only God can make a tree.
by Lucy Maud Montgomery
Tell me how I may win thee, tell me how I must woo.
Shall I croon in mild petition, murmuring vows anew ?
Under the silver of morning, under the purple of night ?
Taming my ancient rudeness, checking my heady clamor
Thus, is it thus I must woo thee, oh, my delight?
I shall storm thee away with laughter wrapped in my beard of snow,
With the wildest of billows for chords I shall harp thee a song for thy bridal,
A mighty lyric of love that feared not nor would forego!
Fast shall I bind thy faith to my faith evermore,
And the stars will wait on our pleasure, the great north wind will trumpet
A thunderous marriage march for the nuptials of sea and shore