C.D. Warner, et al., comp. The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.
The Tree
By Jones Very (1813–1880)
I
And one by one their tender leaves unfold,
As if they knew that warmer suns were near,
Nor longer sought to hide from winter’s cold;
And when with darker growth thy leaves are seen,
To veil from view the early robin’s nest,
I love to lie beneath thy waving screen
With limbs by summer’s heat and toil opprest;
And when the autumn winds have stript thee bare,
And round thee lies the smooth untrodden snow,
When naught is thine that made thee once so fair,
I love to watch thy shadowy form below,
And through thy leafless arms to look above
On stars that brighter beam when most we need their love.