THE TREE OF LIFE

Walt Whitman watched Louisiana’s blooming.

I in Bohemia see it – God’s own verve!

The same expanse and filled with joy consuming,

same joy in hundreds of its offshoots zooming,

same yearning arms and hearts and lips observe!

The tree of life! — I bare my head in wonder

and lift my arms and hands up high in praise;

may Dawn bedeck it with her golden splendour,

may rosy morn up-flare, its glory render,

may Night with its own shade protect its gaze!

Something about it, constant, ever living,

to sing for one the dying pressing dream,

a hundred blossoms blaze for one less giving…

Oh wondrous, arcane mysteries conceiving!

A beehive in its boughs to hear you seem!

Lo, from the faded, fresh new leaves are burgeoning,

life’s one incessant constant revelry!

Yours there to read in leaves e'er freshly surging,

pure life, in strands you see in weave emerging

all round carousing, graceful, orderly!

And in its shade a hundredfold embracing,

and in its branches birdsong never fails,

a hundred kissing mouths, arms interlacing,

“We’re happy!” blend a thousand voices, facing,

and here a child, and there a bloom exhales!

Walt Whitman saw Louisiana’s budding,

I in Bohemia see it, home, out call,

I sing my song with boughs outstretched and leading

with faith in Joy, Love, Life and Fortune’s bidding…

Oh, happy tree of life, our joy, grow tall!