I was looking around the Web and I stumbled on a snippet of a rather old poem:
Evangeline, by
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. I have read some old books and texts like Beowulf, the Odyssey, all the children's stories that belonged to my grandparents and parents (including the ones by the Brothers Grimm). However, I haven't really delved much into American authors from earlier than the twenties, except for Mark Twain.
However, I found there's something I'm missing; this part of the Prologue of Longfellow's poem reawakened my muse, which has been dormant for almost two years now.
So, I decided to share it with you all. I know that Tolkien was a tree-lover, as am I, and this piece really affected me:
Evangeline: Prologue, Part One, Lines 1 - 6
This is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks,
Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight,
Stand like Druids of eld, with voices sad and prophetic,
Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on their bosoms.
Loud from its rocky caverns, the deep-voiced neighboring ocean
Speaks, and in accents disconsolate answers the wail of the forest.
If the words alone don't form a picture in your head, there's a 155-year-old illustration of these lines available at
this website.