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MEMORIAL, by                    
First Line: The forest rears no tombstone for its dead
Last Line: Out of its crumbled heart.
Subject(s): Forests; Woods


The forest rears no tombstone for its dead,
But builds a soft brown floor of fallen leaves.
And where torn logs remember glories fled,
Only the night-wind grieves.

The towered lords of yesterday still give
Their substance for tomorrow's bud and shoot;
Ten thousand murmurous generations live
Within each thrusting root.

And this the monument the woods bestow
On the great oak, cloven and rent apart:
That a green seedling, after years, will grow
Out of its crumbled heart.





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