I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
Tree at my window, window tree,
My sash is lowered when night comes on;
But let there never be curtain drawn
Between you and me.
A flower was offered to me,
Such a flower as May never bore;
But I said 'I've a pretty rose tree,'
A drop fell on the apple tree
Another on the roof;
A half a dozen kissed the eaves,
And made the gables laugh
There was an Old Man in a tree,
Who was horribly bored by a bee.
When they said "Does it buzz?"
He replied "Yes, it does!
Under the greenwood tree
Who loves to lie with me,
And turn his merry note
Unto the sweet bird's throat,
A single fir-tree, lonely,
on a northern mountain height,
sleeps in a white blanket,
draped in snow and ice.
White dawn. Stillness.When the rippling began
I took it for sea-wind, coming to our valley with rumors
of salt, of treeless horizons. But the white fog
didn't stir; the leaves of my brothers remained outstretched,
A Christmas tree! A Christmas tree!
With dark green needled memories
Of childhood dreams and mysteries
Wrapped present-like in front of me.