| THE MASTER said: | |
| ‘I have planted the Seed of a Tree, | |
| It shall be strangely fed | |
| With white dew and with red, | |
| And the Gardeners shall be three— | 5 |
| Regret, Hope, Memory!’ | |
| |
| The Master smiled: | |
| For the Seed that He had set | |
| Broke presently thro’ the mould, | |
| With a glimmer of green and gold, | 10 |
| And the Angels’ eyes were wet— | |
| Hope, Memory, Regret. | |
| |
| The Master cried: | |
| ‘It liveth—breatheth—see! | |
| Its soft lips open wide— | 15 |
| It looks from side to side— | |
| How strange they gleam on me, | |
| The little dim eyes of the Tree!’ | |
| |
| The Master said: | |
| ‘After a million years, | 20 |
| The Seed I set and fed | |
| To itself hath gatherèd | |
| All the world’s smiles and tears— | |
| How mighty it appears!’ | |
| |
| The Master said: | 25 |
| ‘At last, at last, I see | |
| A Blossom, a Blossom o’ red | |
| From the heart of the Tree is shed. | |
| ’Tis fairer certainly | |
| Than the Tree, or the leaves of the Tree.’ | 30 |
| |
| The Master cried: | |
| ‘O Angels, that guard the Tree, | |
| A Blossom, a Blossom divine | |
| Grows on this greenwood of mine: | |
| What may this Blossom be? | 35 |
| Name this Blossom to me!’ | |
| |
| The Master smiled; | |
| For the Angels answered thus: | |
| ‘Our tears have nourish’d the same, | |
| We have given it a name | 40 |
| That seemeth fit to us— | |
| We have called it Spiritus.’ | |
| |
| The Master said: | |
| ‘This Flower no Seed shall bear; | |
| But hither on a day | 45 |
| My beautiful Son shall stray, | |
| And shall snatch it unaware, | |
| And wreath it in his hair.’ | |
| |
| The Master smiled: | |
| ‘The Tree shall never bear— | 50 |
| Seedless shall perish the Tree, | |
| But the Flower my Son’s shall be; | |
| He will pluck the Flower and wear, | |
| Till it withers in his hair!’ | |
