Ode to the Weeping Elm
O, green cathedral of the lawn,
Great dome of architecture and grace,
You do not reach to meet the dawn,
But bend to touch the earth’s embrace.
Praise to the seam that holds your soul—
The borrowed roots, the weeping crown.
A human hand once made you whole,
And taught your branches to cascade down.
An emerald tent where summer rests,
A secret room of quiet shade,
A sanctuary for the nests,
Inside the fortress you have made.
Stand on, great curiosity of art,
Where human craft and nature agree.
You hold the corners of our heart,
O, beautiful and solitary tree.
