Trees in the Winter lose their leaves
Their Autumn glory blows away,
The ground their mulch and mor receives
As in the wind bare branches sway.
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John, I love the last verse written in this poem. Trees are blest, when winter's snows have passed away, each branch with bright Spring green is dressed, each tree grows younger day by day - what a lovely poem, we, humans get the different thing, day by day we just get older, not younger like the trees, wonderful poem!
A beautiful winter lyric. I love to look at the sycamores. Their whiteness inspires me. Are they dreaming of spring? I like to think so. Praise for your musical soul. Warm regards, Sandra