Winter is not yet gone - but now <br />The birds are carolling from the bough. <br />And the mist has rolled away <br />Leaving more beautiful the day. <br />The sun is out - O come with me <br />To look upon the wattle tree! <br /> <br /> <br />Let misers hoard and hide their gold; <br />Here there is treasure-trove untold, <br />In yellow blossom, mass on mass <br />Spread out for wayfarers who pass <br />With hearts to feel, and eyes to see <br />How lovely is the wattle tree. <br /> <br /> <br />O strange, O magical! to forget <br />For a moment care and fret, <br />Whilst the next spirit, like a cup <br />Drained of delight, again fills up <br />And overflows with ecstasy <br />Before the miracle of the tree. <br /> <br /> <br />And rich and poor, who pause to bless <br />The shining tree in thankfulness, <br />Are bound in fellowship indeed. <br />What matter politics or creed, <br />Or class or colour? surely he <br />Loves mankind who loves a Tree! <br /> <br /> <br />Towards illimitable skies <br />From the earth the trees arise: <br />Givers of Joy, their gold and green <br />Against the blue of Heaven is seen. <br />A symbol of man's destiny <br />Is the blossoming the wattle tree. <br /> <br /> <br />Winter is not yet gone - but now <br />The birds are carolling from the bough. <br />And the mist has rolled away <br />Leaving more beautiful the day. <br />The sun is out - O come with me <br />To look upon the wattle tree!<br /><br />Dora Wilcox<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-wattle-tree/
