Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE COCOA-NUT TREE, by FRANCES SARGENT OSGOOD


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE COCOA-NUT TREE, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Oh, the green and the graceful - the cocoa-nut tree
Last Line: There will a picture of beauty be!
Alternate Author Name(s): Vane, Violet
Subject(s): Beauty; Cocoa; Islands; Sea; Trees; Ocean


Oh, the green and the graceful -- the cocoa-nut tree!
The lone and the lofty -- it loves like me
The flash, the foam of the heaving sea,
And the sound of the surging waves
In the shore's unfathom'd caves;
With its stately shaft, and its verdant crown,
And its fruit in clusters drooping down;
Some of a soft and tender green,
And some all ripe and brown between;
And flowers, too, blending their lovelier grace
Like a blush through the tresses on Beauty's face.
Oh, the lovely, the free,
The cocoa-nut tree,
Is the tree of all trees for me!

The willow, it waves with a tenderer motion,
The oak and the elm with more majesty rise;
But give me the cocoa, that loves the wild ocean,
And shadows the hut where the island-girl lies.

In the Nicobar islands, each cottage you see
Is built of the trunk of the cocoa-nut tree,
While its leaves matted thickly, and many times o'er,
Make a thatch for its roof and a mat for its floor;
Its shells the dark islander's beverage hold --
'Tis a goblet as pure as a goblet of gold.
Oh, the cocoa-nut tree,
That blooms by the sea,
Is the tree of all trees for me!

In the Nicobar isles, of the cocoa-nut tree
They build the light shallop -- the wild, the free;
They weave of its fibres so firm a sail,
It will weather the rudest southern gale;
They fill it with oil, and with coarse jaggree,
With arrack and coir, from the cocoa-nut tree.
The lone, the free,
That dwells in the roar
Of the echoing shore --
Oh, the cocoa-nut tree for me!

Rich is the cocoa-nut's milk and meat,
And its wine, the pure palm-wine, is sweet;
It is like the bright spirits we sometimes meet --
The wine of the cocoa-nut tree:

For they tie up the embryo bud's soft wind,
From which the blossoms and nuts would spring;
And thus forbidden to bless with bloom
Its native air, and with soft perfume,
The subtle spirit that struggles there
Distils an essence more rich and rare,
And instead of a blossom and fruitage birth,
The delicate palm-wine oozes forth.

Ah, thus to the child of genius, too,
The rose of beauty is oft denied;
But all the richer, that high heart, through
The torrent of feeling pours its tide,
And purer and fonder, and far more true,
Is that passionate soul in its lonely pride.
Oh, the fresh, the free,
The cocoa-nut tree,
Is the tree of all trees for me!

The glowing sky of the Indian isles,
Lovingly over the cocoa-nut smiles,
And the Indian maiden lies below,
Where its leaves their graceful shadow throw:
She weaves a wreath of the rosy shells
That gem the beach where the cocoa dwells;
She winds them into her long black hair,
And they blush in the braids like rosebuds there;
Her soft brown arm and her graceful neck,
With those ocean-blooms she joys to deck.
Oh, wherever you see
The cocoa-nut tree,
There will a picture of beauty be!





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