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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE PINES, SIXTY-SEVENTH STREET; CENTRAL PARK, LOOKING SOUTHWARD, by HARVEY MAITLAND WATTS
First Line: Though winds are bleak this greening tells of may
Last Line: And ceaseless flows this restless human tide.
Subject(s): Central Park, New York City; Pine Trees; Trees; Winter
First Line: Though winds are bleak this greening tells of may
Last Line: And ceaseless flows this restless human tide.
Subject(s): Central Park, New York City; Pine Trees; Trees; Winter
Though winds are bleak this greening tells of May,
Lit by the winter sunset's trailing gleam,
And the susurrus speaks of far-a-way,
Some mountain scarp, some hurrying woodland stream—
Yet roofed sierras crowd on every side,
And ceaseless flows this restless human tide.
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