 | The Poems of Richard Watson Gilder |  |
THE COMFORT OF THE TREES
McKINLEY: SEPTEMBER, 1901
Gentle and generous, brave-hearted, kind,And full of love and trust was he, our chief;
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And cruel, the hand that smote, beyond belief!
Strike him? It could not be! Soon should we find
'T was but a torturing dream—our sudden grief!
Then sobs and wailings down the northern wind
Like the wild voice of shipwreck from a reef!
By false hope lulled (his courage gave us hope!)
By day, by night we watched—until unfurled
At last the word of fate! Our memories
Cherish one tender thought in their sad scope:
He, looking from the window on this world,
Found comfort in the moving green of trees.
| The Poems of Richard Watson Gilder | |