THE TAMARACK
Among the evergreens I grow All summer long—they do not know— I look so much as if I were An honest upright kind of fir. I even think they envy me, My fronds show such a filigree Of needlework, all interlaced— They do not know I’m double-faced. I am as straight as any lance And so I win their confidence; I know their inmost secret things, I hear their softest murmurings, I listen and maintain my mien— They think I am an evergreen!
But when the summer goes, October knows! October knows! For then my needles turn to gold, I stand a traitor to the fold, I am the turncoat of the pack— The yellow-flaming tamarack! I hoist my shining staff, I give them all the laugh, Until my golden needles drop And sober up. I’ve had my fling— Next spring When I am seen Again, I’ll be an evergreen!