HOW THE FORESTS ARE WASTED

O1 forest home in which the songbirds dwell! The squirrel and the stag shall miss the spell Of thy cool depths when summer's sun assails, Nor more find shelter in thy shadowed vales.

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3All will be silent; echo will be dead; A field will lie where shifting shadows fled Across the ground. The mattock and the plow Will take the place of Pan and Satyr now. The timid deer, the spotted fawns at play, From thy retreats will all be driven away.

4Farewell, old forest; sacred crowns, farewell! Revered in letters and in art as well; Thy place becomes the scorn of every one, Doomed now to burn beneath the summer sun. All cry out insults as they pass thee by, Upon the men who caused thee thus to die!

5Farewell, old oaks that once were wont to crown Our deeds of valor and of great renown! O trees of Jupiter, Dordona's grove, How ingrate man repays thy treasure trove That first gave food that humankind might eat, And furnished shelter from the storm and heat.

6PIERRE DE RONSARD, translated by BRISTOW ADAMS; _American Forestry_,