Come to the sunset tree!

The day is past and gone;

The woodman's axe lies free,

And the reaper's work is done.

John Keble (1792-1866): Tyrolese Evening Song.

Flowers are lovely; love is flower-like;

Friendship is a sheltering tree;

Oh the joys that came down shower-like,

Of friendship, love, and liberty,

Ere I was old!

Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834): Youth and Age.

Of Man's first disobedience, and the fruit

Of that forbidden tree whose mortal taste

Brought death into the world, and all our woe.

John Milton (1608-1674): Paradise Lost. Book i. Line 1.

Again to the battle, Achaians!

Our hearts bid the tyrants defiance!

Our land, the first garden of Liberty's tree,

It has been, and shall yet be, the land of the free.

Thomas Campbell (1777-1844): Song of the Greeks.

Give me again my hollow tree,

A crust of bread, and liberty.

Alexander Pope (1688-1744): Satires, Epistles, and Odes of Horace. Satire vi. Book ii. Line 220.

Like leaves on trees the race of man is found,—

Now green in youth, now withering on the ground;

Another race the following spring supplies:

They fall successive, and successive rise.

Alexander Pope (1688-1744): The Iliad of Homer. Book vi. Line 181.

Then here's to the oak, the brave old oak,

Who stands in his pride alone!

And still flourish he a hale green tree

When a hundred years are gone!

H F Chorley (1831-1872): The Brave Old Oak.

The thorns which I have reap'd are of the tree

I planted; they have torn me, and I bleed.

I should have known what fruit would spring from such a seed.

Lord Byron 1788-1824: Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 10.

In the desert a fountain is springing,

In the wide waste there still is a tree,

And a bird in the solitude singing,

Which speaks to my spirit of thee.

Lord Byron 1788-1824: Stanzas to Augusta.

'T is education forms the common mind:

Just as the twig is bent the tree's inclined.

Alexander Pope (1688-1744): Moral Essays. Epistle i. Line 149.

The bud is on the bough again,

The leaf is on the tree.

Charles Jefferys (1807-1865): The Meeting of Spring and Summer.

The moon had climb'd the highest hill

Which rises o'er the source of Dee,

And from the eastern summit shed

Her silver light on tower and tree.

John Lowe (1750-1798): Mary's Dream.

One morn I miss'd him on the custom'd hill,

Along the heath, and near his fav'rite tree:

Another came; nor yet beside the rill,

Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he.

Thomas Gray (1716-1771): Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 28.

But 'neath yon crimson tree

Lover to listening maid might breathe his flame,

Nor mark, within its roseate canopy,

Her blush of maiden shame.

William Cullen Bryant (1794-1878): Autumn Woods.

The tree of deepest root is found

Least willing still to quit the ground:

'T was therefore said by ancient sages,

That love of life increased with years

So much, that in our latter stages,

When pain grows sharp and sickness rages,

The greatest love of life appears.

Mrs Thrale (1739-1821): Three Warnings.

And on the Tree of Life,

The middle tree and highest there that grew,

Sat like a cormorant.

John Milton (1608-1674): Paradise Lost. Book iv. Line 194.

Oh leave this barren spot to me!

Spare, woodman, spare the beechen tree!

Thomas Campbell (1777-1844): The Beech-Tree's Petition.

In a drear-nighted December,

Too happy, happy tree,

Thy branches ne'er remember

Their green felicity.

John Keats (1795-1821): Stanzas.

A poore soule sat sighing under a sycamore tree;

Oh willow, willow, willow!

With his hand on his bosom, his head on his knee,

Oh willow, willow, willow!

Thomas Percy (1728-1811): Willow, willow, willow.

Under the greenwood tree

Who loves to lie with me.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 5.

Woodman, spare that tree!

Touch not a single bough!

In youth it sheltered me,

And I 'll protect it now.

George P Morris (1802-1864): Woodman, spare that Tree! 1830.

Zaccheus he

Did climb the tree

Our Lord to see.