I have a tree, a graft of Love, That in my heart has taken root; Sad are the buds and blooms thereof, And bitter sorrow is its fruit; Yet, since it was a tender shoot, So greatly hath its shadow spread, That underneath all joy is dead, And all my pleasant days are flown, Nor can I slay it, nor instead Plant any tree, save this alone. Ah, yet for long and long enough My tears were rain about its root, And though the fruit be harsh thereof, I scarcely looked for better fruit Than this, that carefully I put In garner, for the bitter bread Whereon my weary life is fed: Ah, better were the soil unsown That bears such growths; but Love instead Will plant no tree, but this alone. Ah, would that this new spring, whereof The leaves and flowers flush into shoot, To prune these branches at the root, That long have borne such bitter fruit, And graft a new bough, comforted With happy blossoms white and red; So pleasure should for pain atone, Nor Love slay this tree, nor instead Plant any tree, but this alone. L'ENVOY Princess, by whom my hope is fed, My heart thee prays in lowlihead To prune the ill boughs overgrown, Nor slay Love's tree, nor plant instead Another tree, save this alone. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AN EPITAPH ON A ROBIN REDBEAST by SAMUEL ROGERS ON THE STATUE OF AN ANGEL, BY BIENAIME by WASHINGTON ALLSTON SONG by MARGARET STEELE ANDERSON RECOMPENSE by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON GOD THE ONLY TRUE TEACHER by JOHN BYROM EPIGRAM ON THE BRAZIERS' COMPANY HAVING RESOLVED by GEORGE GORDON BYRON |