The Awakening

With green-stained bark, Rising like a tower of the sea, From the smooth park. He is a giant among trees, And he has watched this house for centuries.

His bark is hard as rock, Time and Sun and the Wind's shock Have twisted his boughs till they are like the arms of a great carven figure of Care, Flung in passionate appeal to the changing humour of the Air.

Now on high branches sticky buds appear. Promise of growth and beauty for the year. —

It seems my life is an old tree. And the young buds are your sweet love for me.