The Tree

As of children five,

All dear — of Mary, Janet, Lucy, Tom and Dick —

There's one a little more

Than dear, a richer trouble than the rest,

Sweeter for joys and agitations sick;

And as of women one

Is loved than all most lovely women more;

As even Solomon of his score-score

Dusk concubines remembers one who wore

The shape that only dreams had shown before: —

So I of trees,

Of Elm and Oak and Beech and Ash and Yew,

And all the breathing rest,

Give my wide-branched heart to one that with it grew.

The loud autumnal winds their noise subdue

Upon her breast,

The low skies droop and huddle upon her breast,

The brief-seen stars glitter upon her breast

At rest. — But which that tree

Of the five trees is known to her alone, and me.

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