In “Hill-Side Tree,” Maxwell Bodenheim addresses the tree directly, imagining it as a drowsy, rain-browned saint resting on the slope. Its rare voice seems separate from the wind—soft and blurred, like mists of music blending together. The morning wind is pictured as a drunken, odor-laced peddler, bringing visions of golden-scarfed cities, summer-heavy bells, and maidens whose hearts race like galloping princes. Bodenheim’s lines blur the boundary between the tree’s inner life and the world passing by. The speaker feels reverence and a touch of tenderness toward the tree, as if it dreams of a bright, moving world it cannot join. The contrast between the tree’s stillness and the wind’s restless gifts gives the poem a gentle ache. When the tree lifts its branches and gives a whisper that holds a smile it cannot quite shape, the mood becomes hazy, wistful, and quietly sensual.
Hill-Side Tree — Summary
Like a drowsy, rain-browned saint, You squat, and sometimes your voice In which the wind takes no part, Is like mists of music wedding each other. A drunken, odor-laced peddler is the morning wind. He brings you golden-scarfed cities Whose voices are swirls of bells burdened with summer; And maidens whose hearts are galloping princes. And you raise your branches to the sky, With a whisper that holds the smile you cannot shape.