The yellow book: an illustrated quarterly (11.1896)

The Wind and the Tree

By Charles Catty

Sang the wind to the tree,
O be mournful with me :
There is nothing can last or can stay;
And the joy of new leaves
Turns to sorrow that grieves
The bare bough—on a day,
On a day.
Sang the tree to the wind,
O be happy—I find
There is nothing time fails to restore ;
And the fall that bereaves,
Makes the joy of new leaves
In the spring—evermore,
Evermore.
The wind sighed to the tree,
O be mournful with me :
The leaves come not again that I blow ;
And I mourn for the lives
No renewal revives,
The leaves fall’n—long ago,
Long ago.