Classic Poem

The Pine-tree waves her peace-pledge to the Palm,
Sending sweet grace and greeting, not as they
Who greet and give not. For in time's past day,
Ere thy quick South roused from their summer-calm
Her baby Hopes adream on wings warm-furled,
Our seedplot for all gardens of the world
Nursed through its bud and birth
One tree, till the whole earth
Owned its circumferent leaves and giant girth;
Whence winnowed by the northwind's wings of power
A fire-seed smote thy soil, and lo! a bower,
A blossom-blaze, a Maytime glorious.
O gardener, what is this thou bringest us?
Our freedom's far-sown flower.