"The great desire that urged these trees so high"

by Robert Hillyer

The great desire that urged these trees so high
Runs thinly in your veins tonight; you hear
Their language with an unaccustomed ear
And guess at alien conspiracy.
So in mid-June one sapling will turn sere
Though it has drunk its share of wind and sky,
And in its leaves November voices cry
Long months before the wilting of the year.

Though in fair fields your life was planted firm,
Some seedling ill grew with you from the start
And at your roots thought like a busy worm
Ticked inward slowly, till you stood apart
When youth had run but half its lovely term,
And heard the spring with autumn in your heart.

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