The Mystery of a Summer Night, Edvard Munch (1892)
The Mystery of a Summer Night
In the sense of time it wasn’t long ago
That I stood tall casting billowing shade
A place where some would rest to see the sea
But like tired humans I began to fail
At a point in time my leaves became less
The winter winds tortured my sagging arms
Causing a never ending strain and pain
Finally there’s no golden leaves to fall
Still standing the wind continued its war
Little by little tore away my skin
Naked I’m a violin to the wind
Creating soft sounds as the she flies through
Then came the horror of menacing roar
With its hungry teeth the saw cut me down
What remains is a comfortable seat
For visitors to watch the setting sun
But willingly I have left so much more
Having sent my roots in all directions
Traveling far they are my legacy
Holding the soil together with arms
Mighty is Our Love
The old oak tree that I daily pass
Has stood there so majestically
What appears to be eternity
For decades hasn’t had a canopy
Of green turning to gold in the fall
Yet the old oak remains straight and tall
Buffeted by wicked wind and cold
Which has stripped it of its wrinkled bark
Now but a perch for the meadowlark
The tree is a symbol of our love
Though we will become part of the past
Our mighty love shall forever last
The Tree of Forgiveness, Edward Burne-Jones (1882)
Demophoön and Phyllis, Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
Pledged to return as thee sailed with the wind
Daily watch the tides waiting thy return
My love for thee promised not to rescind
A lonely heart for thy caress does yearn
Now a hemlock brew do I quickly drink
To rid my heart of a tremendous pain
No mental strength to balance on the brink
Chain I cut, yet love of thee will remain
Have taken pity for my foolish deed
The Gods have now returned me as a tree
It is with your touch that I shall be freed
To again give unfettered love to thee
Fear not confusing words, caress me now
To seal our love expressed in earnest vow
The Shepherd and the Peasant Woman, Béla Iványi-Grünwald (n.d)
When young I sat upon my mother’s knee
Told me the many wonders of this place
Especially about a slender tree
Growing tall and bold in this very space
The tree was planted the year I was born
Soon from its sturdy branches I could swing
Its green canopy is now gone, I mourn
This is the tree on which I am sitting
Daily I come here to visit a friend
Thinking of sadness and joys of the past
Knowing like the tree my life will soon end
All things living forever will not last
Tonight shall rest my head and close my eyes
Should I wake again, will be a surprise
Praise to the Stately Tree, Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
From my windows the wonders I do see,
Giving to pause the reason of its cause.
The majestic pow’r of the stately tree,
To its Maker I give humble applause.
This giant silent friend much does it send.
No matt’r the weather it toils in the soil.
Creating the things I so much depend.
Easing my life and reducing turmoil.
Leaves of the tree provide so I may breathe,
At summer’s end fall nourishing the ground.
In its shade from the sun I take my leave,
To eat its fruit in which trees now abound.
Should the removing of the trees persist,
Life as we now know it shall not exist.
Painting by George Vicat Cole, At Arundel, Sussex, 1887.