The Green Tree In The Fall
By Jessie Belle Rittenhouse
Did you forget to bud in Spring,
O Green Tree in the Fall,
That now you wear these fresh young leaves
As for a coronal?
All of your mates within the wood
Are in the crimson leaf,
They had their swift, enamored spring,
Their summertime too brief.
But you—what chance befell that you
Were cheated of the Spring,
That now you cling so fast to leaves
Wherein no bird will sing?
My heart is with you, little tree,
For I was cheated too,
And now I grasp at what I missed
And cling as fast as you.