Was but a shrub, clinging to rocky hill..
when first I strayed in forest aflower.
Er'nt son's return to rose and whippoorwill,
and brook's water glider mossy bower.
Below..,seventeen years cicadas dwelt..
nymphs now grown, sing familiar forest song.
Aligned to moon and stars in homage knelt,
nature's way to right all ruin and wrong.
Seeds are sewn, winds of change how quickly blown,
tree lay down, bough's dream lost coveted cloud.
Heavens soaring branched crown no longer known,
once gloried sunlight, now in earthly shroud.
When last Spring returns Autumn's bounty owed,
the treasured forests Flora wisely sowed.