The Maple Tree

The maple with its tassel flowers of green,
That turns to red a staghorn-shaped seed,
Just spreading out its scolloped leaves is seen,
Of yellowish hue, yet beautifully green;
Bark ribbed like corderoy in seamy screed,
That farther up the stem is smoother seen,
Where the white hemlock with white umbel flowers
Up each spread stoven to the branches towers;
And moss around the stoven spreads, dark green,
And blotched leaved orchis, and the blue bell flowers;
Thickly they grow and neath the leaves are seen;
I love to see them gemmed with morning hours,
I love the lone green places where they be,
And the sweet clothing of the maple tree.

John Clare

John Clare was an English poet known for his celebrations of the English countryside and lamentation of its disruption. Born in Helpston, Northamptonshire, Clare was initially a farm laborer. His poetry is characterized by its natural imagery and rustic language. Despite periods of fame during his period, Clare spent the later part of his life in an asylum due to mental health issues. His works gained greater recognition posthumously. Clare's major poem collections include "Poems Descriptive of Rural Life and Scenery" and "The Shepherd's Calendar."

John Clare

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Ballad. When The Dark Ivy The Thorn-Tree Is Mounting

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Day-Break.

John Clare, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

The Maple Tree.

Where craggy hills round Madoc rise,
With scenic grandeur bold,
Where frowning rocks, from wooded heights,
Look down so stern and cold,

On peaceful vales, and silent lakes,
And islets, wild and fair,
Where trees, in fadeless beauty clad,
Display their verdure there.

Where men, undaunted by the force
Of nature's stern array,
Determin'd, drive a prosp'rous course,
And honorable way.

Here doth the oak rear high its form,
The spreading beech beside,
And here the hemlock meets the storm,
With branches stretching wide.

The pine, with straight and lofty stem,
The birch, whose shapen rind
Sails o'er the lakes by dusky hands,
Or favorable wind.

Such trees as those, are widely known,
And many more beside,
And m...

Thomas Frederick Young

Lament Of The Maple Tree. A Vision.

"We had a dream which was not all a dream." - Byron.


        I laid me down one day in June,
        It was late long afternoon,
        A very sultry summer's eve,
        Such times the senses oft deceive,
        The place was 'neath a maple tree,
        Soon from all cares and troubles free,
        By a gentle, kindly slumber,
        No more our sorrows we could number,
        But we heard a plaintive wail
        Such as we find in fairy tale,
        It was the genius of the tree
        Who in sad guise appeared to me,
        And then she sadly did give vent
        Unto this awful grave lament:
        Though I am gay in month of June,
        All decked in green, yet very soon,
        Alas my beauty will be faded
        An...

James McIntyre

The Maple Tree.

Well have Canadians chosen thee
    As the emblem of their land,
Thou noble, spreading maple tree,
    Lord of the forest grand;
Through all the changes Time has made,
    Thy woods so deep and hoar
Have given their homesteads pleasant shade,
    And beauty to their shore.

Say, what can match in splendor rare
    Thy foliage, brightly green,
Thy leaves that wave in summer's air,
    Glossy as satin sheen,
When Spring returns the first art thou,
    On mountain or in vale,
With springing life and budding bough,
    To tell the joyous tale.

In Autumn's hours of cheerless gloom,
    How glowing is the dye
Of the crimson robe thou dost assume,
    Though it only be to die;
Like the red men who, long years ago,
    Reposed benea...

Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon

Autumn.

Here's the purple aster,
    And the golden-rod,
And the blue fringed gentian,
    By the meadow sod.

And the scarlet cardinal
    Grows beside the brook,
And the yellow sunflower
    In some sheltered nook.

Maple boughs are covered
    With their foliage red,
And the withered elm leaves
    On the ground lie dead.

And within the orchard,
    Heavy-laden trees
Shower down the apples,
    With each passing breeze.

So by these we know thee,
    Lovely autumn time,
With thy deep blue heavens,
    And thy snowy rime.

And we gladly greet thee,
    With thy colors gay,
Though thou tell'st us summer
    Hence hath fled away.

H. P. Nichols

O Maple Leaf!

    Thee best of leaves I love,
    In forest or in grove,
                O Maple Leaf;
    O thou which art the sign
    Of this dear land of mine,
    What loveliness is thine,
                O Maple Leaf!

    Naught can with thee compare,
    On earth or in the air,
                O Maple Leaf;
    Wondrous thy beauties are;
    Thy form is like a star,
    But thou art not afar,
                O Maple Leaf.

    When drops of dew adorn
    Thy surface in the morn,
                O Maple Leaf,
    No hue so fair is seen,
    In silk or satin's sheen,
    As thy rich shade of green,
                O Maple Leaf.

    No music in my ear
    Is half so sweet to hear,
                O Maple Leaf,
   ...

W. M. MacKeracher

The Yellow Violet.

When beechen buds begin to swell,
And woods the blue-bird's warble know,
The yellow violet's modest bell
Peeps from the last year's leaves below.

Ere russet fields their green resume,
Sweet flower, I love, in forest bare,
To meet thee, when thy faint perfume
Alone is in the virgin air.

Of all her train, the hands of Spring
First plant thee in the watery mould,
And I have seen thee blossoming
Beside the snow-bank's edges cold.

Thy parent sun, who bade thee view
Pale skies, and chilling moisture sip,
Has bathed thee in his own bright hue,
And streaked with jet thy glowing lip.

Yet slight thy form, and low thy seat,
And earthward bent thy gentle eye,
Unapt the passing view to meet,
When loftier flowers are flaunting nigh.

William Cullen Bryant