The vine holds fast its husband. Fir loves fir,
The pine the pine, and ash and willow and beech
Each towards the other yearns, and sighs and trembles.
That oak tree which appears
So rustic and so rough,
Even that has something warm in its sound heart;
And hadst thou but a spirit and sense of love,
Thou hadst found out a meaning for its whispers.
Now tell me, would thou be
Less than the very plants and have no love?