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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=538441" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Old Pine Tree</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Listen my child,' said the old pine<br>tree, to the little one nestling near,<br>'For the storm clouds troop together to-night,<br>and the wind of the north I hear<br>And perchance there may come some echo of<br>the music of long ago,<br>The music that rang when the White Host<br>sang, marching across the snow.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Up and away Saint George! up thro' the <br>mountain gorge,<br>Over the plain where the tempest blows, and<br>the great white flakes are flying<br>Down the long narrow glen! faster my merry<br>men,<br>Follow the trail, tho' shy moon hides, and <br>deeply the drifts are lying.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Ah! mother.' the little pine tree replied,<br>'you are dreaming again to-night<br>Of ghostly visions and phantom forms that for-<br>ever mock your sight<br>'Tis true moan of the winter wind comes<br>to my list'ning ear<br>But the White Host marching, I cannot see,<br>and their music I cannot hear.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'When the northern skies were all aflame<br>where the trembling banners swung,<br>When up in the vaulted heavens the moon of<br>the Snow Shoe hung,<br>When the hurricane swept the hillside, and the<br>crested drifts ran high<br>Those were the nights,' said the old pine tree,<br>'the great White Host marched by.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And the storm grew fiercer, fiercer, and the <br>snow went hissing past,<br>But the little pine tree still listened, till she<br>heard above the blast<br>The music her mother loved to hear in the <br>nights of the long ago<br>And saw in the forest the white-clad Host<br>marching across the snow.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And loud they sang as they tramped along of<br>the glorious bygone days<br>Whan valley and hill re-echeoed the snow-<br>shoer's hymn of praise<br>Till the shy moon gazed down smiling, and the <br>north wind pause to hear<br>And the old pine tree felt young again as the<br>little one nestling near.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Up and away Saint George! up thro' the <br>mountain gorge.<br>Over the plain where the tempest blows, and <br>the great white flakes are flying.<br>Down the long narrow glen! faster my merry<br>men.<br>Follow the trail, tho' the shy moon hides, and <br>deeply the drifts are lying.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=William+Henry+Drummond">William Henry Drummond</a><div class=q>
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<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=538441" data-title="The Old Pine Tree de William Henry Drummond" data-description="'Listen my child,' said the old pine
tree, to the little one nestling near,
'For the storm clouds troop together to-night,
and the wind of the north I hear
And perchance there may come some echo of
the music of long ago,
The music that rang when t..."></div>
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