A Poem Lovely As a Tree: birch bark on Etsy, with poetry

"Birch Bark Purse" by LynnCyrArt

Birch
from the old Germanic birka
which means "to shine"
it's bark is beautiful
     versatile
          hardy
it can be soaked in water and wrapped around a broken arm as a cast
peeled off for paper
tapped to make a tough glue
soaked in seawater to season hemp
and then it's just pretty
I love to touch my aunt's trees that gaurd her front lawn from the road
to run my fingers over the smoothness
and lean my cheek against its coolness
Etsians have made such lovely things with it

Come.

Take a walk in the woods with me?

"Handmade Birch bark planter with Succulents Hens and Chicks" by BearPawRustics

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"Genuine Birch Bark Tube, set of five" by SmallStump

O SILVER one, O silver one,

Above the valley of the Bane:

O stem with snow-water agleam,

And glistening limbs, and trails of pearl.

The sun has sent a slanting kiss:

Red fire and gold, his arrows burn:

Now that he aims a shaft at thee,

Red fire and gold to silver turn!

When I am spent with the ways of men.

I'll wash my hands in melting snow:

And live with thee among the oaks,

And watch the river swirl below.

But I must ever be traveling

From sea to sea, from shoal to shoal:

Farewell ! O still and beautiful,

I would thy valley were my goal!

~Herbert Asquith

"Personalized Woodland Wedding Card Box" by AprilHilerDesigns

"Birch Bark Gathering Basket" by NHWoodsCreations

At Loschwitz above the city

The air is sunny and chill;

The birch-trees and the pine-trees

Grow thick upon the hill.

Lone and tall, with silver stem,

A birch-tree stands apart;

The passionate wind of spring-time

Stirs in its leafy heart.

I lean against the birch-tree,

My arms around it twine;

It pulses, and leaps, and quivers,

Like a human heart to mine.

One moment I stand, then sudden

Let loose mine arms that cling:

O God! the lonely hillside,

The passionate wind of spring!

~Amy Levy

"Birch Tree Bracelet" by sisicata

"Things I found while wandering in the woods" by NHWoodsCreations

"Last Leaf - Fine Art Photography Note Card" by SKPhoto

The birch tree in winter
Leaning over the secret pool
Is Narcissus in love
With the slight white branches,
The slim trunk,
In the dark glass;
But,
Spring coming on,
Is afraid,
And scarfs the white limbs
In green.
~A S J Tessimond

"White Birch bark birdhouse box" by NHWoodsCreations

Yeti, birch bark mask with shell accents" by LadyInTheTower

White birch trees surround the water's edge,
waiting courtesans, bleached beneath a golden gleam ~
by brilliant sun, or passing of the moon above,
or kissing stars with every breath, 'twould seem.

And far below these boughs of wood,
sea's cooling waters rise ~
in silvery mists flung from rippling depths,
as though cast from liquid eyes...

And I, one soul, breathe in the moment
that's stretched 'tween earth and sky and man,
alive, as birch trees dance to nature's whim ~
capturing my spirit as I become one, with them.

With feet bared upon white stones, as white
as bending trunks of bleached birch trees,
I rest 'tween blades of grass, admiring
the world, and all it gives to me.

Procuring just one tiny stone of white and
gently touching its edges smoothed by erosive time,
while casting one final glance towards the white birch trees,
I claim the stone as a gift from them...it is now mine.

And the stone that rests within my hand,
pure and smooth as the white birch tree ~
will ever-lead to this heavenly haven,
uniting me with the land and the sea.
~Hazelmarie Elliott

Birch Bark and Grapevine Basket wall hanging" by DoreenConnor

"25 Rustic Natural Wood Wooden Place cards" by TheHickoryTree

"Birch Tree Bark Up Close and Curling (limited edition signed 5x7 fine art photograph)" by MollySteinwald

         Red men embraced     my body's whiteness,
         cutting into me     carved it free,
         sewed it tight     with sinews taken
         from lightfoot deer     who leaped this stream--
         now in my ghost-skin     they glide over clouds
         at home in the fish's     fallen heaven.
         ~Carter Revard

"Birch Bark Vessel II" by TheBentTreeGallery

"A Winter wreath of birch bark loops and twigs" by NHWoodsCreations

When I see birches bend to left and right
Across the lines of straighter darker trees,
I like to think some boy's been swinging them.
But swinging doesn't bend them down to stay.
Ice-storms do that. Often you must have seen them
Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning
After a rain. They click upon themselves
As the breeze rises, and turn many-coloured
As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel.
Soon the sun's warmth makes them shed crystal shells
Shattering and avalanching on the snow-crust
Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away
You'd think the inner dome of heaven had fallen.
They are dragged to the withered bracken by the load,
And they seem not to break; though once they are bowed
So low for long, they never right themselves:
You may see their trunks arching in the woods
Years afterwards, trailing their leaves on the ground,
Like girls on hands and knees that throw their hair
Before them over their heads to dry in the sun.
But I was going to say when Truth broke in
With all her matter-of-fact about the ice-storm,
I should prefer to have some boy bend them
As he went out and in to fetch the cows--
Some boy too far from town to learn baseball,
Whose only play was what he found himself,
Summer or winter, and could play alone.
One by one he subdued his father's trees
By riding them down over and over again
Until he took the stiffness out of them,
And not one but hung limp, not one was left
For him to conquer. He learned all there was
To learn about not launching out too soon
And so not carrying the tree away
Clear to the ground. He always kept his poise
To the top branches, climbing carefully
With the same pains you use to fill a cup
Up to the brim, and even above the brim.
Then he flung outward, feet first, with a swish,
Kicking his way down through the air to the ground.
So was I once myself a swinger of birches.
And so I dream of going back to be.
It's when I'm weary of considerations,
And life is too much like a pathless wood
Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs
Broken across it, and one eye is weeping
From a twig's having lashed across it open.
I'd like to get away from earth awhile
And then come back to it and begin over.
May no fate wilfully misunderstand me
And half grant what I wish and snatch me away
Not to return. Earth's the right place for love:
I don't know where it's likely to go better.
I'd like to go by climbing a birch tree,
And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk
Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more,
But dipped its top and set me down again.
That would be good both going and coming back.
One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.
~Robert Frost

"Unique Shelve for Pine Cones" by ruxuxu