Classic and Contemporary Poetry
TO THE TREE, by JAMES STEPHENS Poet's Biography First Line: Ballad! I have a message you must bear Last Line: And plague the god of life and love to favour me. Subject(s): Trees | ||||||||
Ballad! I have a message you must bear Unto a certain tree! I may not tell Where she abides; only, she is more fair Than any tree that grows down in a dell; Or on a mountain top; or by a well; Or as the lovely sentinel beside A brimming stream! No words can speak her well; Nor lyric song enough her arms so wide; Her grace, her peace, her innocence, her happy pride! Come, Ballad, quickly back to me again, When that you have delivered to the tree My humble service; and if she will deign To trust you with a message back, then see, Most strictly, you forget no word that she May speak to you! No smallest yes or no! And what she looked like when she spoke of me! And if she begged you stay or bade you go! Or hesitated, ere she said -- what you shall know! Say -- I shall visit her ere day be done; When the flushed evening blanches to the dark; When one last ray of all that was the sun Rests on her topmost branches! When the lark Dips to the dew-drenched grasses in the park, And sends but rare, from dusky fields below, A sleepy song! Then, swift as to the mark An arrow flies, so swiftly will I go, Nor stay until her branches wide I halt below. Of every tree most beautiful and queen! The blossom of the wood lives in her glee! About her feet the forest folk are seen! The timid nymph bends there a ready knee! And Pan himself, morose, unwillingly, Yet all perforce, must stoop before her grace! And round about, in a wild ecstasy, The light-foot satyrs -- stayed from an embrace -- Stare shamefully, and dance, and mince, with antic pace. Fortress of melody! Well hidden heart! Deep bosomed lady whom I love so well! Dear solitude of singer without art! Sweet shadiness wherein I long to dwell, Enrapt and comforted from any spell Of thought, or care, or woefulness, or sin! Or trouble which a man may not foretell! Or slothful ease which it is death to win! Or fear that cometh at the last and creepeth in! If you among her little leaves will fly, And what they whisper bring to me again Dear Ballad, I will write your history Upon a sheepskin with a golden pen! It shall be read by women and by men! Each youth will sing it to his paramour, As they go roving in the evening, when All joy is innocence, and love is lore! And you, and youth, and love, will live for evermore! ENVOI Ballad, farewell! go tell her that I burn! Say that I die if she withdraw from me! And I shall wait and sigh till you return, And plague the god of life and love to favour me. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE PROBLEM OF DESCRIBING TREES by ROBERT HASS THE GREEN CHRIST by ANDREW HUDGINS MIDNIGHT EDEN by JOSEPHINE JACOBSEN REFLECTION OF THE WOOD by LEONIE ADAMS THE LIFE OF TREES by DORIANNE LAUX |
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