The Old Cherry Tree
My mind is full of one old cherry tree,
Whose branches I climbed as a child in quest
Of my then slumbering identity.
Remembrance finds my pastoral friend drest
In rich green shimmering with silver flame,
The dusky cherries bursting with the life
And love that saturate the cosmic frame.
Leaf, branch and fruit are wounded not with strife,
But shine with nature's unencumbered joy.
Instructor of the soul - o tree of love -
You were in mystic union with the boy;
The man to bursts of lyric thought you move.
Alas, the canker reappears anon,
And minds me that the storm of hate howls on.