A young Fir-Wood

THESE little firs to-day are things

           To clasp into a giant's cap,

           Or fans to suit his lady's lap.

      From many winters many springs

           Shall cherish them in strength and sap

           Till they be marked upon the map,

      A wood for the wind's wanderings.

      All seed is in the sower's hands:

           And what at first was trained to spread

       Its shelter for some single head,—

      Yea, even such fellowship of wands,—

           May hide the sunset, and the shade

           Of its great multitude be laid

      Upon the earth and elder sands.