Mary Colborne-Veel

Here you will find the Poem Song of the Trees of poet Mary Colborne-Veel

Song of the Trees


WE are the Trees. 
 Our dark and leafy glade 
Bands the bright earth with softer mysteries. 
Beneath us changed and tamed the seasons run: 
In burning zones, we build against the sun 
 Long centuries of shade. 

We are the Trees, 
 Who grow for man?s desire, 
Heat in our faithful hearts, and fruits that please. 
Dwelling beneath our tents, he lightly gains 
The few sufficiencies his life attains? 
 Shelter, and food, and fire. 

We are the Trees 
 That by great waters stand, 
By rills that murmur to our murmuring bees. 
And where, in tracts all desolate and waste, 
The palm-foot stays, man follows on, to taste 
 Springs in the desert sand. 

We are the Trees 
 Who travel where he goes 
Over the vast, inhuman, wandering seas. 
His tutors we, in that adventure brave? 
He launched with us upon the untried wave, 
 And now its mastery knows. 

We are the Trees 
 Who bear him company 
In life and death. His happy sylvan ease 
He wins through us; through us, his cities spread 
That like a forest guard his unfenced head 
 ?Gainst storm and bitter sky. 

We are the Trees. 
 On us the dying rest 
Their strange, sad eyes, in farewell messages. 
And we, his comrades still, since earth began, 
Wave mournful boughs above the grave of man, 
 And coffin his cold breast.