To An Aged Willow

Ancient willow, drooping low Gnarled old trunk and withered bough. Though they say you’re dying now I can never have it so. Massive limbs against the sky Wrestling with the winds of heaven, E’en the thunder crashing levin Like old Ajax you defy. Where your mournful branches bend Countless birds their nests have made Woodland songsters unafraid. You, old willow, were their friend. And you sheltered me as well, Often in the summer’s heat Idly musing at your feet I have felt your soothing spell. Rustling softly through the leaves Pendulous to every air, Peace and solace everywhere Dripped like raindrops from the eaves. And the white clouds floating by Bore me to the shores of dreams - Blissful yet the memory seems - Loved companion, must you die? No cathedral’s gloomy nave Or cold monument for me, Rather let me have a tree As a marker for my grave. And the Land of Yet-to-Be Where sun risen glories play, May it see you clothed some day In immortal greenery.