The Tree

Oh, like a tree
Let me grow up to Thee!
And like a Tree
Send down my roots to Thee.

Let my leaves stir
In each sigh of the air,
My branches be
Lively and glad in Thee;

Each leaf a prayer,
And green fire everywhere ...
And all from Thee
The sap within the Tree.

And let Thy rain
Fall--or as joy or pain
So that I be
Yet unforgot of Thee.

Then shall I sing
The new song of Thy Spring,
Every leaf of me
Whispering Love in Thee!

John Frederick Freeman

John Frederick Freeman was a British poet, notable as a Georgian poet. He was born in London and worked initially as an office boy and later as a clerk before gaining recognition for his poetic works. Freeman primarily wrote about nature, identity, and the human condition. Over the course of his literary career, he published several books of poetry, and his works were praised for their sincerity and technical excellence. His notable collections include 'Presage of Victory' and 'Stone Trees.'

John Frederick Freeman

The Bright Rider

John Frederick Freeman, Simple Poetry

At Evening's Hush

John Frederick Freeman, Simple Poetry

Asking Forgiveness

John Frederick Freeman, Simple Poetry

The Crowns

John Frederick Freeman, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

The Temple

Between the erect and solemn trees
I will go down upon my knees;
    I shall not find this day
    So meet a place to pray.

Haply the beauty of this place
May work in me an answering grace,
    The stillness of the air
    Be echoed in my prayer.

The worshipping trees arise and run,
With never a swerve, towards the sun;
    So may my soul's desire
    Turn to its central fire.

With single aim they seek the light,
And scarce a twig in all their height
    Breaks out until the head
    In glory is outspread.

How strong each pillared trunk; the bark
That covers them, how smooth; and hark,
    The sweet and gentle voice
    With which the leaves rejoice!

May a like strength and sweetness fill
Desire, and thoug...

J. D. C. Fellow

Tree-Worship - (To John Lane)

Vast and mysterious brother, ere was yet of me
    So much as men may poise upon a needle's end,
Still shook with laughter all this monstrous might of thee,
    And still with haughty crest it called the morning friend.

Thy latticed column jetted up the bright blue air,
    Tall as a mast it was, and stronger than a tower;
Three hundred winters had beheld thee mighty there,
    Before my little life had lived one little hour.

With rocky foot stern-set like iron in the land,
    With leafy rustling crest the morning sows with pearls,
Huge as a minster, half in heaven men saw thee stand,
    Thy rugged girth the waists of fifty Eastern girls.

Knotted and warted, slabbed and armoured like the hide
    Of tropic elephant; unstormable and steep
As some grim...

Richard Le Gallienne

When Trees Are Green.

    Would you be glad of heart and good?
    Would you forget life's toil and care?
    Come, lose yourself in this old wood
    When May's soft touch is everywhere.

    The hawthorn trees are white as snow,
    The basswood flaunts its feathery sprays,
    The willows kiss the stream below
    And listen to its flatteries:

    "O willows supple, yellow, green,
    Long have I flowed o'er stock and stone,
    I say with truth I have not seen
    A rarer beauty than your own!"

    The rough-bark hickory, elm, and beech
    With quick'ning thrill and growth are rife;
    Oak, maple, through the heart of each
    There runs a glorious tide of life.

    Fresh leaves, young buds on every hand,
    On trunk and limb a hint of red,
 ...

Jean Blewett

The Tree's Prayer

Alas, 'tis cold and dark!
The wind all night hath sung a wintry tune!
Hail from black clouds that swallowed up the moon
Beat, beat against my bark.

Oh! why delays the spring?
Not yet the sap moves in my frozen veins;
Through all my stiffened roots creep numbing pains,
That I can hardly cling.

The sun shone yester-morn;
I felt the glow down every fibre float,
And thought I heard a thrush's piping note
Of dim dream-gladness born.

Then, on the salt gale driven,
The streaming cloud hissed through my outstretched arms,
Tossed me about in slanting snowy swarms,
And blotted out the heaven.

All night I brood and choose
Among past joys. Oh, for the breath of June!
The feathery light-flakes quavering from the moon
The slow baptizin...

George MacDonald

The Trees.

When on the spring's enchanting blue
You trace your slender leaves and few,
Then do I wish myself re-born
To lands of hope, to lands of morn.

And when you wear your rich attire,
Your autumn garments, touched with fire,
I want again that ardent soul
That dared the race and dreamed the goal.

But, oh, when leafless, dark and high,
You rise against this winter sky,
I hear God's word: "Stand still and see
How fair is mine austerity!"

Margaret Steele Anderson

St. John's, Cambridge

I stand beneath the tree, whose branches shade
    Thy western window, Chapel of St. John!
    And hear its leaves repeat their benison
    On him, whose hand if thy stones memorial laid;
Then I remember one of whom was said
    In the world's darkest hour, "Behold thy son!"
    And see him living still, and wandering on
    And waiting for the advent long delayed.
Not only tongues of the apostles teach
    Lessons of love and light, but these expanding
    And sheltering boughs with all their leaves implore,
And say in language clear as human speech,
    "The peace of God, that passeth understanding,
    Be and abide with you forevermore!"

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow