Robert Lee Frost

Beech

 Where my imaginary line
 Bends square in woods an iron spine
 And pile of real rocks have been founded
 And off this corner in the wild
 Where these are driven in and piled
 One tree, by being deeply wounded
 Has been impressed as Witness Tree
 And made commit to memory
 My proof of being not unbounded
 Thus truth's established and bourne out
 Though circumstanced with dark and doubt
 Though by a world of doubt surrounded.