Unseen the sap in winter’s veil,
‘Less tapped by thieving sugar spile;
Fills the hills and floods the vale,
Makes fecund each mark and mile
Beneath a frigid pall of white,
Coiled and ready, spring’s delight.
Warm runs the sap at April’s song,
Supple in the blush of green,
Unfolding in the sunbeams long,
With golden, vernal, verdant sheen,
To grace the bough, to laugh and dance,
Embrace the world with tender stance.
Strong flows the sap at summer’s crest,
Ardent in the flush of green,
To shade the world at sun’s behest,
Shelter from gale unforeseen,
To march through woods in liv’ried swarms
With emerald brothers all in arms.
Slow goes the sap at autumn’s creep.
So trade fatigues for dress coats bright;
One last parade before long sleep,
One more salute to comrade’s light,
As grizzled glory bows and sways,
Recalling stronger soldier days.
Now dry the sap in stem and shaft;
Warrior’s strength is cracked and dry.
So waits each leaf for cold wind’s waft
That now and ‘non comes quickly by,
That’s borne its brothers all away;
Thus dimming eye marks dark’ning day.
Where wends the stark November breeze
That carries leaf from branch to brook
Away from labors, loft, and trees,
Away from farthest thought and look?
One final struggle, then to know;
So with the next gust to let go.