The Fir-Tree

O singing Wind

Searching field and wood,

Canst thou find

Aught that's sweet or good,—

Flowers, to kiss awake,

Or dewy grass, to shake,

Or feathered seed

Aloft to speed?

Replies the wind:

"I cannot find

Flowers, to kiss awake,

Or dewy grass to shake,

Or feathered seed

Aloft to speed;

Yet I meet

Something sweet,

When the scented fir,—

Balsam-breathing fir—

In my flight I stir.