From The Washington Herald, November 14, 1913. By John Kendrick Bangs.
The English tongue sometimes, I fear
Would strike a man from Mars as queer.
For instance, when some people say,
“’Tis sad to see one pine away,”
They do not know the kind of pine
That gladdens so this soul of mine.
When I observe it front the ill
Of winter with its bitter chill,
Its green persistent in the face
Of every blast that comes from space;
Its head held high against the sky
Whatever tempest passes by;
And ‘mid the blizzards as serene
As in the summer, soft and green.
It simply pines, and pines away,
And gathers strength day after day;
And stands erect whatever may be
And takes what comes unflinchingly.
How wondrous fine ‘twould be, I say,
If folks would only “pine” that way!