Nicholson & Lee, eds. The Oxford Book of English Mystical Verse. 1917.
Robert Buchanan (1841–1901)173. The Tree of Life
T
‘I have planted the Seed of a Tree,
It shall be strangely fed
With white dew and with red,
And the Gardeners shall be three—
Regret, Hope, Memory!’
For the Seed that He had set
Broke presently thro’ the mould,
With a glimmer of green and gold,
And the Angels’ eyes were wet—
Hope, Memory, Regret.
‘It liveth—breatheth—see!
Its soft lips open wide—
It looks from side to side—
How strange they gleam on me,
The little dim eyes of the Tree!’
‘After a million years,
The Seed I set and fed
To itself hath gatherèd
All the world’s smiles and tears—
How mighty it appears!’
‘At last, at last, I see
A Blossom, a Blossom o’ red
From the heart of the Tree is shed.
’Tis fairer certainly
Than the Tree, or the leaves of the Tree.’
‘O Angels, that guard the Tree,
A Blossom, a Blossom divine
Grows on this greenwood of mine:
What may this Blossom be?
Name this Blossom to me!’
For the Angels answered thus:
‘Our tears have nourish’d the same,
We have given it a name
That seemeth fit to us—
We have called it Spiritus.’
‘This Flower no Seed shall bear;
But hither on a day
My beautiful Son shall stray,
And shall snatch it unaware,
And wreath it in his hair.’
‘The Tree shall never bear—
Seedless shall perish the Tree,
But the Flower my Son’s shall be;
He will pluck the Flower and wear,
Till it withers in his hair!’