Classic Poem

——“You think I am dead,”
——The apple tree said,
“Because I have never a leaf to show—
——Because I stoop
——And my branches droop,
And the dull gray mosses over me grow!
But I'm still alive in trunk and shoot;
——The buds of next May
——I fold away—
But I pity the withered grass at my feet.”

——“You think I am dead,”
——The quick grass said,
“Because I have parted with stem and blade!
——But under the ground
——I am safe and sound
With the snow's thick blanket over me laid.
I'm all alive and ready to shoot,
——Should the spring of the year
——Come dancing here—
But I pity the flowers without branch or root.”

——“You think I am dead,”
——A soft voice said,
“Because not a branch or root I own!
——I never have died
——But close I hide
In a plumy seed that the wind has sown.
Patiently I wait through the long winter hours;
——You will see me again—
——I shall laugh at you then,
Out of the eyes of a hundred flowers.”