<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=355403" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Trees Are Down</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">and he cried with a loud voice: Hurt not the earth, neither the sea, nor the trees - Revelation </div><div style="margin:10px 0">They are cutting down the great plane-trees at the end of <br>the gardens.<br>For days there has been the grate of the saw, the swish of<br>the branches as they fall,<br>The crash of the trunks, the rustle of trodden leaves,<br>With the 'Whoops' and the 'Whoa', the loud common talk, <br>the loud common laughs of the men, above it all.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I remember one evening of a long past Spring<br>Turning in at a gate, getting out of a cart, and finding <br>a large dead rat in the mud of the drive.<br>I remember thinking: alive or dead, a rat was a <br>god-forsaken thing,<br>But at least, in May, that even a rat should be alive.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The week's work here is as good as done. There is just <br>one bough<br>On the roped bole, in the fine grey rain,<br>Green and high<br>And lonely against the sky.<br>(Down now! -)<br>And but for that,<br>If an old dead rat<br>Did once, for a moment, unmake the Spring, I might never <br>have thought of him again.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It is not for a moment the Spring is unmade to-day;<br>These were great trees, it was in them from root to stem:<br>When the men with the 'Whoops' and the 'Whoas' have carted <br>the whole of the whispering loveliness away<br>Half the Spring, for me, will have gone with them.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It is going now, and my heart has been struck with the <br>hearts of the planes;<br>Half my life it has beat with these, in the sun, in the rains, <br>In the March wind, the May breeze,<br>In the great gales that came over to them across the roofs from the great seas.<br>There was only a quiet rain when they were dying; <br>They must have heard the sparrows flying,<br>And the small creeping creatures in the earth where they were lying -<br>But I, all day, I heard an angel crying:<br>'Hurt not the trees.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Charlotte+Mary+Mew">Charlotte Mary Mew</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=355403" data-title="The Trees Are Down de Charlotte Mary Mew" data-description="and he cried with a loud voice: Hurt not the earth, neither the sea, nor the trees - Revelation They are cutting down the great plane-trees at the end of the gardens. For days there has been the grate of the saw, the swish of the branches as th..."></div> </div> </div>

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