Poems (Jackson)/Transplanted
TRANSPLANTED.
HEN Christ, the Gardener, said, "These many years Behold how I have waitedFor fruit upon this barren tree, which bears But leaves With unabatedPatience I have nurtured it; have fed Its roots with choicest juices;The sweetest suns their tender warmth have shed On it; still it refusesIts blossom; all the balmiest summer rain Has bathed it; unrepaying, Still, its green and glittering leaves, in vain And empty show arraying,It flaunts, contented in its uselessness, Ever my eye offending.Uproot it! Set it in the wilderness! There no more gentle tendingShall it receive; but, pricked by nettle stings, And bruised and hurt, and crowdedBy stones, and weeds, and noxious growths of things That kill, and chilled 'neath shroudedAnd sunless skies, from whose black clouds no rain Shall fall to soothe its anguish,Bearing the utmost it can feel of pain, Unsuccored, it shall languish!"When next across the wilderness Christ came, Seeking his Royal Garden,A tree stood in his pathway, all aflame, And bending with its burdenOf burnished gold. No fruit inside the wall Had grown to such perfection!It was the outcast tree! Deprived of all Kind nurture and protection,Thrust out among vile things of poisonous growth, Condemned, disgraced, and banished,Lonely and scorned, its energies put forth Anew. All false show vanished;Its roots struck downward with determined hold, No more the surface roaming;And from th' unfriendly soil, a thousand-foldOf yield compelled.Of yield compelled.The coming Of the Gardener now in sweet humility It waited, trusting, trembling;Then Christ, the Gardener, smiled and said:Then Christ, the Gardener, smiled and said:"O tree,This day, in the assembling Of mine, in Paradise, shalt thou be found. Henceforth in me abiding,More golden fruit shalt thou bring forth; and round Thy root the living waters glidingShall give the greenness which can never fade.While angels, with thy new name sealing Thee, shall come, and gather in thy shadeLeaves for the nations' healing!"