13. Archibald’s Example

OLD ARCHIBALD, in his eternal chair,

Where trespassers, whatever their degree,

Were soon frowned out again, was looking off

Across the clover when he said to me:

“My green hill yonder, where the sun goes down

Without a scratch, was once inhabited

By trees that injured him—an evil trash

That made a cage, and held him while he bled.

“Gone fifty years, I see them as they were

Before they fell. They were a crooked lot

To spoil my sunset, and I saw no time

In fifty years for crooked things to rot.

“Trees, yes; but not a service or a joy

To God or man, for they were thieves of light.

So down they came. Nature and I looked on,

And we were glad when they were out of sight.

“Trees are like men, sometimes; and that being so,

So much for that.” He twinkled in his chair,

And looked across the clover to the place

That he remembered when the trees were there.