III
The Disputatious Pines
The first pine to the second said:‘My leaves are black, my branches red;I stand upon this moor of mine,A hoar, unconquerable pine.’
The second sniffed and answered: ‘Pooh!I am as good a pine as you.’
‘Discourteous tree,’ the first replied,‘The tempest in my boughs had cried,The hunter slumbered in my shade,A hundred years ere you were made.’
The second smiled as he returned:‘I shall be here when you are burned.’
So far dissension ruled the pair,Each turned on each a frowning air,When flickering from the bank anigh,A flight of martens met their eye.Sometime their course they watched; and then—They nodded off to sleep again.