THE MADRONA
When my skin is newly green, When it’s turned a copper sheen, When it’s flushed to ruddiness like rich, old wine, Seek me in the wilderness, Seek me in my gleaming dress, Seek me in the shadows of the covering pine.
Lace of leafy malachite Letting in the splashing light, Dappling all my full, round limbs with leopard gold; Lovely as a mottled snake, Grace in every curve I make, Amorously beautiful my arms unfold.
Never was a gypsy maid More audaciously arrayed, Never half so ravishing or so fair— Topaz clusters, look at them, Set in Autumn’s diadem, Dazzling in the darkness of my thick, green hair.
THE YELLOW PINE
I do not like the cloistered wood And little good I find in forest gloom, I much prefer the elbow-room Of well-spaced groves, earth kempt and free Of undergrowth; to be Respectfully removed, with green And pleasant interludes between, And in the middle distance see My fellows grouped fraternally Against a haze of blue; beyond, a maze Of trunks receding till they all Seem drawn together in a wall Where every tree Is lost in dark uncertainty.
