Like polished marble their tall shafts gleam

Beside some beautiful inland stream,

And their heart-shaped leaves in autumn’s prime

Wear the golden tints of a fairer clime.

As I touch the bark, white as driven snow,

I dream of the seasons long ago,

When the Red Man paddled his light canoe

Where the canopied birches pierced the blue!

—George Bancroft Griffith.