Spare That Tree: George Pope Morris and the Birth of Literary Conservationism

October 10, 1802

On this day, dear readers and fellow admirers of literary landscapes, we celebrate the birth of a man whose words would grow to shelter us like the very trees he championed: George Pope Morris, American editor, poet, and songwriter extraordinaire.

Born when the young United States was still finding its roots, Morris would go on to plant seeds of culture that continue to bear fruit to this day.

With a pen as sharp as pruning shears and a mind as fertile as well-tended soil, he co-founded the New York Evening Mirror with his literary compatriot, Nathaniel Parker Willis. Not content with just one publication, these horticultural wordsmiths also cultivated Town and Country Magazine, a periodical that continues to bloom in the garden of American journalism.

Nathaniel Parker Willis, clearly in awe of his colleague's natural talent, once remarked that Morris was,

...just what poets would be if they sang like birds without criticism.

One can almost picture Morris, perched on a branch of the publishing world, trilling out verses with the carefree abandon of a songbird in spring.

But it is for his arboreal anthem that we gather in our literary grove today. In 1837, Morris penned a poem that would take root in the hearts of conservationists and tree-huggers alike:

Woodman, Spare that Tree!

This verse, which later sprouted into a popular song, stands as a testament to the power of words in defending nature's silent sentinels.

Allow me, if you will, to recite this leafy lament:

Woodman, woodman, spare that tree
Touch not a single bough
For years it has protected me
And I'll protect it now

Chop down an oak, a birch or pine
But not this slipp'ry elm of mine
It's the only tree that my wife can't climb
So spare that tree

Oh, what a delightful blend of sentiment and humor!

One can almost hear the rustle of leaves and the swish of petticoats as Morris's words paint a picture of domestic tranquility threatened by the woodman's axe.

The first four lines speak to the noble cause of conservation, reminding us of the reciprocal relationship between humans and trees.

How many of us have sought shelter beneath a leafy canopy, only to realize that it is now our turn to offer protection?

But then, with a wink and a nod, Morris adds a touch of levity to leaven his environmental message.

The image of a slippery elm serving as the last bastion of marital peace is enough to bring a chuckle to even the most serious of conservationists.

One can't help but wonder if Mrs. Morris was in on the joke, or if she found herself suddenly inspired to take up tree climbing as a hobby.

This poem, with its perfect blend of pathos and playfulness, embodies the very essence of Morris's talent. Like a well-planned garden, it offers both beauty and functionality, appealing to our higher ideals while keeping us grounded in the humor of everyday life.

So, dear readers, as we go about our day, let us take a moment to appreciate the trees around us.

Whether they're sheltering us from the sun, providing a peaceful spot for contemplation, or simply serving as an arboreal obstacle course for our more adventurous spouses, let us echo Morris's plea:

Woodman, spare that tree!

And perhaps, in honor of George Pope Morris, we might consider planting a tree of our own.

After all, the best time to plant a tree was 20 years ago, and the second best time is now.

Just be sure to choose a variety that suits both your landscape and your climbing abilities.

We wouldn't want to leave anyone out on a limb, now would we?