A dark green mystery of Turkish galbanum incense resin, Russian leather, and the fresh tips of coniferous Siberian forest greens.
And stand there, huger, blacker, statuesque,
While watching from the green margin of our home
The far-off mountain crumbles to a husk
And plunging down we seek our dark-green gloom
What frog or fish or monster am I grown
That while the day's last rope last hope recedes
I swim in strangeness and I do not drown!
My mind is but a waving of green weeds. -- Douglas Stewart