by: Karle Wilson Baker
- y life is a tree,
- Yoke-fellow of the earth;
- By roots too deep for remembrance,
- To stand hard against the storm,
- To fill my Place.
- (But high in the branches of my green tree there is a wild bird singing:
- Wind-free are the wings of my bird: she hath built no mortal nest.)
MORE POEMS BY KARLE WILSON BAKER
|"The Tree" is reprinted from Blue Smoke. Karle Wilson Baker. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1919.