I love the trees in the upper photograph. Are they hailing a new dawn or bidding farewell to a dark night? Or are they like Ovid’s Cyparissus pointing to the heavens? “His life force
exhausted by long weeping, now his limbs
began to take a green tint, and his hair,
which overhung his snow-white brow, turned up
into a bristling crest; and he became
a stiff tree with a slender top and pointed
up to the starry heavens. And the God,
groaning with sorrow, said; “You shall be mourned sincerely by me, surely as you mourn
for others, and forever you shall stand
in grief, where others grieve.”
| Charles | Saumarez | Smith | 
That curving line of London Plane trees is one of the glories of of London.
I love the trees in the upper photograph. Are they hailing a new dawn or bidding farewell to a dark night? Or are they like Ovid’s Cyparissus pointing to the heavens? “His life force
exhausted by long weeping, now his limbs
began to take a green tint, and his hair,
which overhung his snow-white brow, turned up
into a bristling crest; and he became
a stiff tree with a slender top and pointed
up to the starry heavens. And the God,
groaning with sorrow, said; “You shall be mourned sincerely by me, surely as you mourn
for others, and forever you shall stand
in grief, where others grieve.”