A Young Fir-wood

These little firs to-day are things
To clasp into a giant's cap,
Or fans to suit his lady's lap.
From many winters many springs
Shall cherish them in strength and sap
Till they be marked upon the map,
A wood for the wind's wanderings.
All seed is in the sower's hands:

And what at first was trained to spread
Its shelter for some single head,--
Yea, even such fellowship of wands,--
May hide the sunset, and the shade
Of its great multitude be laid
Upon the earth and elder sands.