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Poem	I was a seed that fell In silver dew; And nobody could tell, For no one knew; No one could tell my fate, As I grew tall; None visioned me with hate, No, none at all. A sapling I became, Blest by the sun; No rumour of my shame Had any one. Oh I was proud indeed, And sang with glee, When from a tiny seed I grew a tree. I was so stout and strong Though still so young, When sudden came a throng With angry tongue; They cleft me to the core With savage blows, And from their ranks a roar Of rage arose. I was so proud a seed A tree to grow; Surely there was no need To lay me low. Why did I end so ill, The midst of three Black crosses on a hill Called Calvary?
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