Here once, through an alley Titanic, Of cypress, I roamed with my Soul Of cypress, with Psyche, my Soul.
The sailing pine, the cedar proud and tall, The vine-prop elm, the poplar never dry, The builder oak, sole king of forests all, The aspen good for staves, the cypress funeral. The laurel, meed of mighty conquerors And poets sage, the fir that weepeth still, The willow worn of forlorn paramours, The ewe obedient to the benders will, The birch for shafts, the sallow for the mill, The myrrh sweet bleeding in the bitter wound, The warlike beech, the ash for nothing ill, The fruitful olive, and the platan round, The carver holme, the maple seldom inward sound.Edmund Spenser
Forever seeking, never found, In this wide varied scene; Sole object of unceasing search, While in this low terrene. Yet vain the search, if in the heart Some lurking passion dwell; For this will hang with cypress wreath Retirement's secret cell. In vain the outward scene is calm, In vain the world we fly; If thou, in pure religion's garb, Thy friendly aid deny.elizabeth bath
The cypress stood up like a church That night we felt our love would hold, And saintly moonlight seemed to search And wash the whole world clean as gold; The olives crystallized the vales' Broad slopes until the hills grew strong: The fireflies and the nightingales Throbbed each to either, flame and song. The nightingales, the nightingales.
Know ye the land where the cypress and myrtle Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clime? Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle, Now melt into sorrow, now madden to crime!lord byron
When I am dead, my dearest, sing no sad songs for me, plant thou no roses at my head, no shady cypress tree.
Forever seeking, never found, In this wide varied scene; Sole object of unceasing search, While in this low terrene. Yet vain the search, if in the heart Some lurking passion dwell; For this will hang with cypress wreath Retirement's secret cell. In vain the outward scene is calm, In vain the world we fly; If thou, in pure religion's garb, Thy friendly aid deny.
For there no yew nor cypress spread their gloom But roses blossom'd by each rustic tomb.thomas campbell
The oak ... has not the efficacy of the fir , nor the cypress that of the elm .
Sweet is the rose, but grows upon a brere; Sweet is the juniper, but sharp his bough; Sweet is the eglantine, but sticketh nere; Sweet is the firbloome, but its braunches rough; Sweet is the cypress, but its rynd is tough; Sweet is the nut, tut bitter is bis pill; Sweet is the broome-flowre, but yet sowre enough; And sweet is moly, but his root is ill.Edmund Spenser
Remember that the storm is a good opportunity for the pine and the cypress to show their strength and their stability.ho chi minh