Somewhere the Southland rears a tree,(And many others there may beLike unto it, that are unknown,Whereon as costly fruit has grown).It stands before a hut of woodIn which the Christ Himself once stood—And those who pass it by may seeNought growing there except a tree,But there are two to testifyWho hung on it . . . we saw Him die.Its roots were fed with priceless blood.It is the Cross; it is the Rood.
Paris, January 31, 1929.
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