’But one tree was in the forest
      That refused to bow;
    Then a sudden blast came o’er it,
      And a whisper low
    Made the leaves and branches quiver—­
      Shook the guilty tree;
    And the voice was:  “Tremble ever
      To eternity: 
    Be a lesson from thee read—­
    He that boweth not his head,
      And obeyeth not his Maker, let him fear eternally!”

    ’So thou standest ever shaking,
      Ever quivering with fear,
    For the voice is still upon thee,
      And the whisper near. 
    Like the guilty, conscience-haunted;
      And the name for thee
    Is, “The tree of many thoughts”—­
    Is, “The tree of many doubts;”
      And thy leaves are thoughts and doubtings—­for thou art the
          sinner’s tree.

    ’Thou, O chestnut, richly branched,
      Standest in thy might,
    Rising like a leafy tower
      In the summer light. 
    And thy branches are fruit-laden,
      Waving bold and free;
    And the beams upon thee shed
    Are like blessings on thy head: 
      Thou art strong, and fair, and fruitful—­for thou art the good
          man’s tree.

    ’So, farewell, great forest-teachers: 
      There is a spirit dwells
    In the veinings of each leaflet,
      In each flower’s cells: 
    Ye have each a voice and lesson,
      And ye seem to say: 
    “Open, man, thine eyes to see
    In each flower, stone, and tree,
      Something pure and something holy, as thou passest on thy way."’
          
                                              F.C.W.

* * * * *

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