The Loving Tree

Three women walked upon a road,
 * And the first said airily,

"Of all the trees in all the world
 * Which is the loving tree?"

The second said, "My eyes have seen
 * No tree that is not fair;

But the Orange tree is the sweetest tree,
 * The loving blood is there."

And the third said, "In the green time
 * I knew a loving tree

That gave a drink of the blood-red milk,
 * It was the Mulberry."

Then the first one said, "Of all the trees
 * No sweetest can I name;

Ask her who yonder slowly comes—
 * That woman lean and lame."

Grief like a hideous suckling hung
 * Along her hollow breast,

Pain was upon her as she walked,
 * And as she stooped to rest.

"Why will you question so?" she said,
 * "Is it to mock at me?

For how should I, who walk in Hell,
 * Know of a loving tree?

"My eyes are not as woman's eyes,
 * They hope not east or west:

Dull Famine my bed-mate is,
 * And Loneliness my guest.

" 'Tis not the most delicious flower
 * That leaves the scent of Spring,

Nor is it yet the brightest bird
 * That loads his heart to sing.

"A tree may dance in the white weather
 * Or dream in a blue gown,

A tree may sing as a sweetheart
 * To bid the stars come down:

"Some trees are slim and lovable
 * And some are sleek and strong,

But the tree that has the cripple's heart
 * Will know the cripple's song.

"The sweetest death is the red death
 * That comes up nakedly,

And the tree that has the foiled heart
 * It is the loving tree.

"While ever lip shall seek for lip,
 * While ever light shall fall,

The tree that has the ruined heart
 * Is tenderest of all.

"Oh, ye may have your men to kiss,
 * And children warm to hold,

But the heart that had the hottest love
 * Was never yet consoled."

The women three walked on their way,
 * Their shamed eyes could see

How well the tree with the foiled heart
 * Is still the loving tree.