The sun’s translated the whole countryside:
potato fields into if not ornate
yet solid prose; while cornfields add a
spate
of lyricism, flaming far and wide;
epic in colour, form and sound, the oak
tells of its sun-hero in epic verse;
the poplars choose the tragical, the terse:
how those who strive high, fate fells at
one stroke;
perse gravity of green red-kale infers
humour in what seems droll and quite
prosaic;
knowing what’s right, and that he never errs,
the pine nods sagely, genially commends –
From the untranslatable immense descends
sheer praise upon the literary mosaic.
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