John Henry Green (1856-1940)
A remembrance written in 1880 about
his boyhood in Palos Hills, Illinois.
You may say that the hills look so squatty
But in my memoir picture a great forest was
A great virgin forest so mossy and green
When the chill wind brings frost, that mantle
The red of the leaves and the blue of the skies,
Make a sight that would charm the cruelest
Such coloring, just blended in millions of
While flocks of wild pigeons enliven the jades.
In a rift through the trees with the sun shining
Scores of wild deer at play neath the heaven
But the wild pigeons have gone like the spreading
The deer have departed, likewise the wild bees.
You may say that the place looks quite scrawny
I love the place for what it was when the forest