Poems (King)/Trees

Trees
IN serried ranks or lonely state,
  Like veterans they stand,
Through starry nights, through storm-swept days,
  To sentinel the land.

I know not if I love them best
  When fledged with springtime green,
Or when, with sylvan vesture clad,
  They deck the summer scene.

And yet when autumn touches them
  With dyes unknown to art,
Beneath that gorgeous color-spell,
  I needs must yield my heart.

But, ah! I know I love them well,
  When, all white winter through,
With gray and lace-like tracery,
  They etch the curving blue.