Poetry Explorer

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First Line: She has become as a barren tree
Last Line: And helpless nestlings to hover.


She has become as a barren tree
On a bleak hillside in December --
One with no home-bound, work-worn
Traveller to cover --
One with no nestling to hover.

There is ample sap at her roots
Waiting to rise at the reach
Of recurring spring ...
But she is tired, cold, out-worn,
Not rousing, nor caring to remember
That spring follows close on December --
That she may be again, a little later,
Verdant, voluptuous shelter and mother --
With torn travellers to cover
And helpless nestlings to hover.





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