There must be some terrible power
In the earth and wind and sunshine
How else could the young tree,
A favourite of these three
Sicken in a single say and die?
And I who took some pride over
Planting and tending it
And caught its assent to life
The sun’s and wind’s keen sponsorship of
This fine young tree, more admiring than proud.
There must be some strange excess of love
In earth and wind and sun that
With notice of just a little day
Took such a fine young tree away.
Whenever I stand in the empty place, thoughts
Brandished wildly sign and sing in memory.
Earth, wind and sun go about their work
As if nothing has occurred,
Calm as conspirators after the deed
Driving me to almost believe nothing
Has happened. I am the tree that’s gone,
That tree and I being one.