Into the woods my Master went,
Clean forspent, forspent.
Into the woods my Master came,
Forspent with love and shame.
But the olives they were not blind to Him;
The little gray leaves were kind to Him
The thorn-tree had a mind to Him
When into the woods He came.
Out of the woods my Master went,
And He was well content....
Into the woods my Master went,
Clean forspent, forspent.
Into the woods my Master came,
Forspent with love and shame.
But the olives they were not blind to Him;
The little gray leaves were kind to Him;
The thorn-tree had a mind to Him
When into the woods He came.
Out of the woods my Master went,
And He was well content....
[The last words of Stonewall Jackson 1 were: “Let us cross the river and rest under the shade of the trees.”]
WHAT are the thoughts that are stirring his breast?
What is the mystical vision he sees?
—“Let us pass over the river, and rest
Under the shade of the trees.”
Has he grown sick of his toils and his tasks?
Sighs the worn spirit...
Into the woods my Master went,
Clean forspent, forspent.
Into the woods my Master came,
Forspent with love and shame.
But the olives they were not blind to Him,
The little gray leaves were kind to Him:
The thorn-tree had a mind to Him
...
Four Trees — upon a solitary Acre —
Without Design
Or Order, or Apparent Action —
Maintain —
The Sun — upon a Morning meets them —
The Wind —
No nearer Neighbor — have they —
But God —
The Acre gives them — Place —
They — Him — Attention of Passer by —...
Talk not to me of Summer Trees
The foliage of the mind
A Tabernacle is for Birds
Of no corporeal kind
And winds do go that way at noon
To their Ethereal Homes
Whose Bugles call the least of us
To undepicted Realms
