This wooded path I found one day,
When the canopy above was tender green
With fragile, newborn leaves,
And the lustrous light a misty sheen
On the moist branches of the trees.
The rosy world each morn reborn
To the awakening miracle of spring,
With piping thrush and singing lark,
And hope reset in sweet refrain.
Along this wooded path I strolled one day,
When the canopy above was darkly green,
A luxuriant foliage spreading wide
With tight and glossy leaves,
And the filtered light gay dancing specks
On the branches of...