A Tree

It's putting on its leafage now,

The tree beside my door;

It's coming back to life again,

One blessed summer more.

The winter that assailed it

And stripped it of its dress

Could not kill the spirit

Nor its hope suppress.

If I could be as valiant

As this stately tree,

I would bravely wear the clothes

Of bleak adversity.

For I would hope to don again

In some far distant goal

Another gentle sprigtide's

Raiment of the soul.

When summer comes and winds blow

Like beckoning of words,

You'll find this tree the haven of

The night's wayfaring birds.

And you can seek in day time

Its shelter from the sun,

Its arms outstretched as provident

As arms of gentle nun.

If I could be as kindly as

This radiant spreading tree,

My heart would be the haven of

The friends who come to me.

The small affairs I'd put aside

And dedicate my day

To gladdening the life of all

Who chance to come my way.

This precious tree beside my door,

In yellow robe or green,

Greets every sunrise with a smile;

At eventide, serene,

It knows the solitude of stars,

The watchfulness of God;

Its branches reaching heavenward,

Its roots deep in the sod.

If I could be as true to life

As this enduring tree,

I then would fill my destined place

Quite unobtrusively.

And you would live to hear men say,

When they would speak of me;

"You always found him in his place,

As sturdy as a tree."