Requiescat En Arborea
The forest sleeps, Rest here my love.
by Alexander Menke
Sad yellow leaves float aimless down
To earth, whose color turns warmly brown.
Stone grey limbs, quiet, cold, tell the sycamore's grief.
Gone the glitter and rustle, the deep hued golden leaf.
Soft white, a wooly gift of snow
stills the ground.
Between old trunks, icy breezes blow.
And whistle sorrows tune of lost colored leaves.
God gives love and color. He also bereaves.
Take solace in this narrow wooded dream
That Nature keeps.
Rest here, my love. The forest sleeps.