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The New Zealand Railways Magazine, Volume 8, Issue 4 (August 1, 1933)

To a Dead Tree

To a Dead Tree.

Once thou wert fair, O Tree, and thy green crown
Rose towering o'er thy fellows to the sky;
What force constrained thy life-flow thus to stay?
What cruel power decreed that thou should'st die?
Once Spring-time in her course revived thy strength,
Bestrewing through thy branches blossoms rare—
Sweet, modest blooms, retiring ‘neath thy leaves,
Yet streaming fragrance on the forest air.
Once summer saw thine increase, green and bright,
In pendent drupes enhance thy leafy charms;
Once autumn's threshing flails their harvest swept
Of purple berries from thy laden arms.
But now no more to thee the season calls
With full fruition in her golden train;
And to thy cold and unresponsive heart,
The rich earth offers up her wealth in vain.
And yet, perchance, in my poor reckoning,
I count thee lost who art not really dead;
Perchance this stark, corrupting trunk is but
The husk from which thy leafy spirit fled.
This, then, my prayer, O Tree, for thee and me—
Thou, springing green in some celestial glade
Where my tired soul, released from earth, might find,
Eternal rest beneath thy spirit's shade.

* * *