WHAT song is in the sap of this brave oak-tree <br />That to the north-star faces, <br />Ravened each June by caterpillar masses <br />Till all its leaves are laces, <br />Poor shreds whose very shadow grieves the grasses? <br />I leave it then, but roses and the smoke-tree <br />Look from the lawn below it <br />And watch for that gold witch, Midsummer Weather, <br />With magic breath to blow it <br />Free of its foes, whose wings make mirth together. <br />Vital as Igdrasil, immortal folk-tree, <br />When I return, its losses <br />Are all restored, its fresh, soft foliage gleaming <br />With peach and citron glosses, <br />A Druid that is never done with dreaming.<br /><br />Katharine Lee Bates<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/april-in-september/
