I love the friendly Birch, When gracefully and tall I see it rise Through greening pines, Waving white arms to summer skies, Or cousining in clumps in bent outlines, It whispers confidences — sweetest Birch. I love the dainty Birch, Tho’ wonderfully clad in sheerest white, Akin to nudity, no fears alarm, When Winter starts its blights, Its purity is changeless, and it bears No season’s malice — peerless Birch!
Anna M. Johnson's "Birches" is a simple, affectionate tribute to a single tree. The speaker opens with "I love the friendly Birch" and returns to the same declaration halfway through, giving the poem two parts built on a shared feeling. In the first, the birch is sociable and warm: it rises tall among the pines, waves "white arms" to the summer sky, and huddles with other birches "in clumps," almost like cousins sharing secrets.
The second part shifts from friendliness to endurance. The tree's white bark is "sheerest" and "akin to nudity," yet it seems unafraid. When winter arrives with its harshness, the birch stays "changeless" and pure, untouched by any "season's malice." The speaker admires this quiet strength inside delicate looks.
The mood is tender and admiring, almost reverent. By treating the tree like a person, with arms, whispers, and a stubborn innocence, the speaker turns a bit of woodland into a beloved companion.