A Chant of Mystics and Other Poems/The Fruits of Death
For works with similar titles, see The Fruits of Death.
THE FRUITS OF DEATH
Said the folded Leaves upon the Heath
To the opening Leaves upon the Tree:
"Soon will the Warders of the Storm
Bring us to our Mother-Sea,
Even as they opened yesternight
Our prison doors of Destiny:
We envy not the Birds now nor the Dew;
To them we leave the Forest and to you."
The infant Leaves thus made reply:
"But we rejoice that we are here;
We stand in the cerulean Gate
Of Life to crown the dying Year.
Him who emancipates we love,
He who enchains is also dear:
You are the Flowers of the Storm, and we,
We are the Fruits of Death upon Life's tree.