Desolate seemed the grove of Comferia,
Evergreen as deciduous;
Hopeless the hour seemed unto us;
Helpless our beauteous Cryptomeria—
Helpless in Winter's clutch our Koelreuteria.
We stood beneath our Ulmus Gracilis,
And watched the tempest-tom Fitzroya,
And shaken than the stout Sequoia;
And yet I knew in spite of this,
Your heart was hopeful of the Springtide's kiss.