Poems (White)/Little Tree
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LITTLE TREE
Grow, little tree, way upward you go,
To gaze at stars, their brilliant show.
Grow up and dust the clouds from the sky,
Tell the small stars they must not be shy,
Laugh at the moon with pale, sickly face,
Tell him that soon he may lose his place;
Say that you'll catch him, looking for soon
A black veil to hide his face, the moon.
Then he'll get better, throw off his veil,
When he around the heavens will sail.
Then you'll play peek-a -boo with the moon,
Catching his glances, late, and now soon.
Twinkle your spangles back at the stars,
They not alone can practice such laws.
Soon the great sun you'll gladly embrace;
Knowing you're conquered, earth is your place,
Bowing submissive to his mighty power,
Drinking gladly his warming shower,
Turning your bangles to look in his face,
Deepening your tone, for such is the case.
Grow, little tree, and pierce the blue mist,
Glad with knowledge that heaven you've kissed.
To gaze at stars, their brilliant show.
Grow up and dust the clouds from the sky,
Tell the small stars they must not be shy,
Laugh at the moon with pale, sickly face,
Tell him that soon he may lose his place;
Say that you'll catch him, looking for soon
A black veil to hide his face, the moon.
Then he'll get better, throw off his veil,
When he around the heavens will sail.
Then you'll play peek-a -boo with the moon,
Catching his glances, late, and now soon.
Twinkle your spangles back at the stars,
They not alone can practice such laws.
Soon the great sun you'll gladly embrace;
Knowing you're conquered, earth is your place,
Bowing submissive to his mighty power,
Drinking gladly his warming shower,
Turning your bangles to look in his face,
Deepening your tone, for such is the case.
Grow, little tree, and pierce the blue mist,
Glad with knowledge that heaven you've kissed.