The Woods
The Woods
11-29-08
By
William L. Moore
For
William McCracken Milroy
In the woods the trees so tall
Mourning birds begin to call
Waiting for the break of day
Scattering seed where it may lay
From the little wooden basket
Which resembles a tiny casket
As far as it may be seen
The willowy grass so green
The leafy branches may break or bend
But in the time it takes to mend
Grow roots so straight and true
Forever catching all the dew
So straight, so true, so strong
At which they do belong
Keeps us all on our toes
So we should always know
The trees so full of Dove
Cooing of their love
Always will return to dust
This great earth belongs to us
After the end
We will begin again
Uncle Bill
This was written
When I thought
Of the Farm west of
Okmulgee, Oklahoma
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