I

We work here together
         In blast and breeze;
He fills the earth in,
         I hold the trees.

He does not notice
         That what I do
Keeps me from moving
         And chills me through.

He has seen one fairer
         I feel by his eye,
Which skims me as though
         I were not by.

And since she passed here
         He scarce has known
But that the woodland
         Holds him alone.

I have worked here with him
         Since morning shine,
He busy with his thoughts
         And I with mine.
I have helped him so many,
         So many days,
But never win any
         Small word of praise!

Shall I not sigh to him
         That I work on
Glad to be nigh to him
         Though hope is gone?

Nay, though he never
         Knew love like mine,
I'll bear it ever
         And make no sign!


II

From the bundle at hand here
         I take each tree,
And set it to stand, here
         Always to be;
When, in a second,
         As if from fear
Of Life unreckoned
         Beginning here,
It starts a sighing
         Through day and night,
Though while there lying
         'Twas voiceless quite.

It will sigh in the morning,
         Will sigh at noon,
At the winter's warning,
         In wafts of June;
Grieving that never
         Kind Fate decreed
It should for ever
         Remain a seed,
And shun the welter
         Of things without,
Unneeding shelter
         From storm and drought.

Thus, all unknowing
         For whom or what
We set it growing
         In this bleak spot,
It still will grieve here
         Throughout its time,
Unable to leave here,
         Or change its clime;
Or tell the story
         Of us to-day
When, halt and hoary,
         We pass away.