Cedar Tree

There was an age, before the earth seemed old,
When we went through the fields where April walked,
And saw the world on fire with blue and gold,
And shared strange secrets though we never talked.
Love was as light as shadows on the grass,
And clean and sweet as April’s blossomy air;
And you, an impudent, unbridled lass,
Wore roses in your cheeks, and freed your hair.

Whatever storms of time may blow you ill,
Shaking your beauty with a wintry wind,
You are a young green cedar on a hill
Through all the shifting seasons of my mind;
And, when the last white snows have gone,
I find You standing supple, green, and lovely still.