The Tree Of Song


I sang my songs for the rest,
For you I am still;
The tree of my song is bare
On its shining hill.

For you came like a lordly wind,
And the leaves were whirled
Far as forgotten things
Past the rim of the world.

The tree of my song stands bare
Against the blue,
I gave my songs to the rest,
Myself to you.


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It ain't what you don't know that gets you into trouble. It's what you know for sure that just ain't so.