Ohrmann Museum & Gallery
 
Pines

 

Iíd watched the sorrow of the evening sky,
And smelt the sea, and earth, and the warm clover,
And heard the waves, and the seagullís mocking cry.
And in them all was only the old cry,
That song they always sing-The best is over.

Then from the sad west turning wearily,
I saw the pines against the white north sky.
Very beautiful and still, and bending over
Their sharp black heads against a quiet sky.
And there was peace in them; and I
Was happy, and forgot to play the lover,
And laughed, and did no longer wish to die;
Being glad of you, O pine-trees and the sky!

     Rupert Brooke
     English  1887-1915