Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE BIRCH TREE, by FRIEDRICH ADOLF AXEL DETLEV VON LILIENCRON


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE BIRCH TREE, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: We loved. I sat beside your bed to stare
Last Line: The soft scythe whirrs, now sinks your dying head.
Alternate Author Name(s): Liliencron, Detlev Von
Subject(s): Birch Trees


We loved. I sat beside your bed to stare
At your dear mouth, weary with death's last pain.
Your wandering eyes besought me everywhere:
Do you hear scythes sweep softly through the grain?

And Pentecost was here. The eager city
Fled out of doors, Spring-hatted, gaily drest.
The loveliest day betrayed us without pity,
O day, be gracious to her fevered rest.

Beside your head, beside your feet were bending
Two green young birch-trees, shadowing the floor,
A message from the sacred life descending,
They brought a greeting at the dread, dark door.

I cut those green boughs for you yesterday
In that familiar place where we would stand
Spellbound so often, yet so wildly gay,
And where we sat so often, hand in hand.

There an old willow stands, that in bright weather
Secured us from the sun and envious eyes,
There all is still, and round about, the heather,
And on the broom poise trembling dragon-flies.

A chattering stream winds gently through that place,
The rye retires south toward kinder soil,
There Nature shadows her bowed, sunburnt face,
And rests, bent over, weary with her toil.

Do you recall the evening we were sitting,
Bound by a gathering storm, so silently
Beside our osier-bush, you spoke, fear flitting
Across your eyes: "If you deserted me?"

Look up, through screening boughs that droop behind you,
Ah, I was true, each trusted what each said.
Silence comes cloud-borne, from the wastes, to find you,
The soft scythe whirrs, now sinks your dying head.





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