The Fruits of Death
Said the folded Leaves upon the Heath
To the opening Leaves upon the Tree:
“Soon will the Warders of the Storm
Bring us to our Mother-Sea,
Even as they opened yesternight
Our prison doors of Destiny:
We envy not the Birds now nor the Dew;
To them we leave the Forest and to you.”
The infant Leaves thus made reply:
“But we rejoice that we are here;
We stand in the cerulean Gate
Of Life to crown the dying Year.
Him who emancipates we love,
He who enchains is also dear:
You are the Flowers of the Storm, and we,
We are the Fruits of Death upon Life’s tree.
From A Chant of Mystics (James T. White & Co., 1921) by Ameen Rihani. This poem is in the public domain.