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. 



