Classic Poem

A sorrowful thing it is and full of pity,
That one who was born in the still, green country-side,
Should die in the city;
Should pass to the raucous stridor and grind and gride,
To the vacuous bellowing pride,
Of the brazen city.
. . . . . . . .
So calm and sealed I rest upon my bed
They deem my soul near sped,
And that my thoughts are duly fixed on God;
Thus muttering they nod
And bend one to the other stealthily.
How droll they seem to me!
For while they murmur pious things like these
My waning thoughts are all of trees, trees, trees, …

I see them blown in rivulets
Of green along the upper blue,
Or litten all with fiery wings,
Or laced with star-rays through and through.
Or still as only trees can keep
When thunder turns him in his sleep.

I hear them singing with the rain,
Or with the South wind laughing low,
Or whispering to the summer night
The Eden spells of long ago …
Their leafy crowns they wear like kings
The lordliest of lordly things!

Could you but come and lift me,
On your branches cool,
They would need no coffin to shift me,
I would make death a fool!

Oh, magic and miracle!
What is this wonder?
Am I in Dunsinane?
Yonder! Look yonder!
Trees! Trees! … A forestful.
Coming to save me!
See how their branches all
Beckon and wave me!
In at my window now,
Up through the floor,
Rending the walls apart,
Riving the door,
Storm the magnificent
Legions beneficent
Bannered with leaves.

Lo! where the smothering roof up-heaves,
And falls aside in thunder!
High, high they lift me toward the windy heaven
With cradling boughs thrust under.
Gone is my heavy, heavy grief,
So light, so light, so light I feel and merry
As I were changed into a little leaf!
A little dancing leaf!
I hear a pompous voice say far below me,
… “All is over …”
And I am filled with leafy mirth and glee,
As light I hover;
O dusty eyes! O darkened one!
All is but just begun!
. . . . . . . .
A blade of grass,
Shadows that pass,
The linnet and her call,
Waters that rise or fall,
Winds magical,
The fathering and devouring sun,
Laughter and grief,
A god, a star, a leaf,
It is all one,
As one is all.
And from man's wearisome heresies
I am well at ease
Being one with the trees.