Reveries of a Tree
Along a mere an ancient oak tree weeps,
A gnarled king crownèd with rays of lustrous light,
Streaming lilies strewn about his twining feet
Lit by twinkling jewels in the grim tapestry of night.
‘Neath his hoary arms hangs a faded swing,
Unhinged by the thoughtless ravages of time.
All is silent, save the wailing of the winds
Moaning o’er lonesome hills and dells.
Memories fly across the dreary skies
Like ripples o’er sombre ponds do lie:
A brazen Dawn of shining gold ablaze,
Rose-fingerèd with flowing golden hair;
A tender child not yet come of age,
Laughing as he swang in long-past days.
Silently the old tree mused anew,
Remembering blissful years long since past.
His branches swayed, now bedewed,
And with a sigh he stilled, and was content.