To An Aged Willow
Ancient willow, drooping low
Gnarled old trunk and withered bough.
Though they say you’re dying now
I can never have it so.
Massive limbs against the sky
Wrestling with the winds of heaven,
E’en the thunder crashing levin
Like old Ajax you defy.
Where your mournful branches bend
Countless birds their nests have made
Woodland songsters unafraid.
You, old willow, were their friend.
And you sheltered me as well,
Often in the summer’s heat
Idly musing at your feet
I have felt your soothing spell.
Rustling softly through the leaves
Pendulous to every air,
Peace and solace everywhere
Dripped like raindrops from the eaves.
And the white clouds floating by
Bore me to the shores of dreams -
Blissful yet the memory seems -
Loved companion, must you die?
No cathedral’s gloomy nave
Or cold monument for me,
Rather let me have a tree
As a marker for my grave.
And the Land of Yet-to-Be
Where sun risen glories play,
May it see you clothed some day
In immortal greenery.