C.D. Warner, et al., comp.
The Library of the World’s Best Literature. An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.

Hugh M’Culloch

Scent o’ Pines

LOVE, shall I liken thee unto the rose

That is so sweet?

Nay, since for a single day she grows,

Then scattered lies upon the garden-rows

Beneath our feet.

But to the perfume shed when forests nod,

When noonday shines,

That lulls us as we tread the woodland sod,

Eternal as the peace of God—

The scent o’ pines.

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