THE DRYAD'S MESSAGE 



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THE DRYAD'S MESSAGE 



He who wantonly kills a tree, 



All in a night of God-sent dream, 



He shall travel a desert waste 



Of pitiless glare, and never a stream. 



Nor a blade of grass, nor an inch of shade — 



All in a wilderness he has made. 



Oh , forlorn without trees ! 



He who tenderly saves a tree. 



All in a night of God-sent dream, 



He shall list to a hermit-thrush 



Deep in the forest, by mountain stream. 



With friendly branches that lean and shade, 



All in a woodland that he has made. 



Oh, the peace of the trees! 



He who passionately loves a tree, 

 Growth and power shall understand; 

 Everywhere he shall find a friend. 

 Listen ! They greet him from every land , 

 English Oak and the Ash and Thorn, 

 Silvery Olive, and Cypress tall. 

 Spreading Willow, and gnarled old Pine, 

 Flowering branches by orchard wall — 

 Sunshine, shadow and sweetness of glade — 

 All in a Paradise he has made. 

 Oh, the joy of the trees ! 



Louise Morey Bowman. 



