The first pine to the second said: “My leaves are black, my branches red; I stand upon this moor of mine, A hoar, unconquerable pine .”
The second sniffed and answered: “Pooh, I am as good a pine as you.”
“Discourteous tree” the first replied, “The tempest in my boughs had cried, The hunter slumbered in my shade, A hundred years ere you were made.”
The second smiled as he returned: “I shall be here when you are burned.”
So far dissension ruled the pair, Each turned on each a frowning air, When flickering from the bank anigh, A flight of martens met their eye. Sometime their course they watched; and then They nodded off to sleep again.