Ah in the thunder air <br />how still the trees are! <br /> <br />And the lime-tree, lovely and tall, every leaf silent <br />hardly looses even a last breath of perfume. <br /> <br />And the ghostly, creamy coloured little tree of leaves <br />white, ivory white among the rambling greens <br />how evanescent, variegated elder, she hesitates on the green grass <br />as if, in another moment, she would disappear <br />with all her grace of foam! <br /> <br />And the larch that is only a column, it goes up too tall to see: <br />and the balsam-pines that are blue with the grey-blue blueness of <br />things from the sea, <br />and the young copper beech, its leaves red-rosy at the ends <br />how still they are together, they stand so still <br />in the thunder air, all strangers to one another <br />as the green grass glows upwards, strangers in the silent garden.<br /><br />David Herbert Lawrence<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/trees-in-the-garden/
