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."
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