Bohemia Village Voice

[From ‘Bohemian Bagatelle‘, published 1979 by the Bohemians]

 

TREES

 

The Silver Birch is dainty,

She has a satin bark,

And in the summertime

She’s the home of the Lark.

 

The leaves are small and plentiful,

Scattered along the twigs,

They grow so profusely

But they’re never very big.

 

The trunk is very slender,

Holding branches high,

The birds fly from it, winging

Into the true blue sky.

 

The Elm has almost disappeared

From England’s country lanes,

The trouble was a little mite

That ate into the veins.

 

It made the leaves fall off,

And the branches all turned bare,

The wind blew them along the ground

To leave them resting there.

 

The sturdy Oak is known by all

In England’s countryside,

Its wood made ships of long ago,

Which were the nation’s pride.

 

The Weeping Willow looks so sad

As over the river it stands,

Its branches all bow over

To the water, from the land.

 

The Cedar is a stately tree,

Lebanon is its home,

Many of them were cut down

To build Solomon’s throne.

 

Kathleen Preston