In Arden, poems hang from the trees.

ROSALIND: From the east to western Ind, no jewel is like Rosalind.
CELIA: Why should this a desert be? For it is unpeopled? No. Tongues I'll hang on every tree.
ROSALIND: O wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful wonderful!
ORLANDO: Good day and happiness, dear Rosalind.
ROSALIND: Nay, you must call me Rosalind if you will have me.
ORLANDO: I would not be cured, youth.
ROSALIND: I would cure you if you would but call me Rosalind and come every day to my cote and woo me.
ORLANDO: Now, by the faith of my love, I will.
CELIA: You have simply misused our hours.
