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.