Beside the golden gate there grows a tree <br />Whose heavy fruit gives entrance to the ways <br />Of Wonder, and the leaves thereof are days <br />Of desolation—nights of agony <br />The buds and blossom for the fruits to be: <br />Rooted in terror the dead trunk decays, <br />The burdened branches drooping to the clays <br />Clammy with blood of crushed humanity. <br /> <br />But lo the fruit! Sweet-bitter, red and white, <br />Better than wine—better than timely death <br />When surfeited with sorrow—Lo the bright <br />Mansions beyond the gate! And Love, thy breath <br />Fanning our flaming hearts where entereth <br />Thy Song of Songs with Love’s tumultuous light.<br /><br />Joseph Mary Plunkett<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/arbor-vitae/
