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.