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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