Amount of texts to »tree« 25, and there are 23 texts (92.00%) with a rating above the adjusted level (-3)
Average lenght of texts 209 Characters
Average Rating 13.880 points, 0 Not rated texts
First text on May 3rd 2001, 06:13:39 wrote
ETree about tree
Latest text on Jan 25th 2019, 21:34:08 wrote
sarit about tree
Some texts that have not been rated at all
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Random associativity, rated above-average positively

Texts to »Tree«

soba wrote on Jan 11th 2002, 06:03:20 about


Rating: 20 point(s) | Read and rate text individually

a tree fulfills an important ecological function in the watercycle, as producer of oxygen, and living space for other plants and animals, yet also serves as discreet listener to human lament, respectively as meeting point before mating at times.

belle wrote on Aug 18th 2001, 12:54:54 about


Rating: 32 point(s) | Read and rate text individually

A Poison Tree
by William Blake

I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.

And I watered it in fears
Night and morning with my tears,
And I sunned it with smiles
And with soft deceitful wiles.

And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright,
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine –

And into my garden stole
When the night had veiled the pole;
In the morning, glad, I see
My foe outstretched beneath the tree.

belle wrote on Jul 18th 2001, 17:01:11 about


Rating: 35 point(s) | Read and rate text individually

The Poplar Field
by William Cowper

The poplars are felled, farewell to the shade
And the whispering sound of the cool colonnade:
The winds play no longer and sing in the leaves,
Nor Ouse on his bosom their image receives.

Twelve years have elapsed since I first took a view
Of my favourite field, and the bank where they grew,
And now in the grass behold they are laid,
And the tree is my seat that once lent me a shade.

The blackbird has fled to another retreat
Where the hazels afford him a screen from the heat;
And the scene where his melody charmed me before
Resounds with his sweet-flowing ditty no more.

My fugitive years are all hasting away,
And I must ere long lie as lowly as they,
With a turf on my breast and a stone at my head,
Ere another such grove shall arise in its stead.

'Tis a sight to engage me, if anything can,
To muse on the perishing pleasures of man;
Short-lived as we are, our enjoyments, I see,
Have a still shorter date, and die sooner than we.

toxxxique wrote on Aug 14th 2001, 17:14:52 about


Rating: 20 point(s) | Read and rate text individually

I envy trees
their thriving roots
melt into the rich earth.
Their lush and lazy feet.
They rely on the ground.
Safe and strong.

I envy birds
their wings craving
southwards to the sea.
I watch them dive
through a metal sky
like bullets.

I envy roads,
roaming those green hills
with a destination

I envy them
For I am not
earthbound and free
or heading somewhere.
My feet are off the ground
but I have no home to cling to.
And no place to go.

whatevernext96 wrote on Nov 22nd 2001, 19:57:21 about


Rating: 35 point(s) | Read and rate text individually

Hurrah – the latest surveys apparently show that the British Isles have nearly the same amount of forest cover as at the time of the Norman Conquest, almost 1,000 years ago. We don't need The Return of the Jedi – the return of the trees is so much nicer!

A.E. wrote on Apr 30th 2004, 11:37:23 about


Rating: 32 point(s) | Read and rate text individually

LOVELIEST of trees, the cherry now
Is hung with bloom along the bough,
And stands about the woodland ride
Wearing white for Eastertide.

Now, of my threescore years and ten,
Twenty will not come again,
And take from seventy springs a score,
It only leaves me fifty more.

And since to look at things in bloom
Fifty springs are little room,
About the woodlands I will go
To see the cherry hung with snow.


David Copperfield by Charles Dickens wrote on Nov 2nd 2004, 06:32:13 about


Rating: 35 point(s) | Read and rate text individually

The evening wind made such a disturbance just now, among some tall old elm-trees at the bottom of the garden, that neither my mother nor Miss Betsey could forbear glancing that way. As the elms bent to one another, like giants who were whispering secrets, and after a few seconds of such repose, fell into a violent flurry, tossing their wild arms about, as if their late confidences were really too wicked for their peace of mind, some weatherbeaten ragged old rooks'-nests, burdening their higher branches, swung like wrecks upon a stormy sea.

ETree wrote on May 3rd 2001, 06:13:39 about


Rating: 35 point(s) | Read and rate text individually

Balance like the tree with roots to the ground and branches to the sky.

Past and future in perfect tension.

Some random keywords

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Created on May 21st 2001, 15:34:27 by Nils the Dark Elf, contains 21 texts

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