THE VEN'SON-TREE
The busy cranes go back an' forth, a-ploughin' up
the sky,
The wild goose drag comes down the wind an'
goes a-roarin' by;
The song-birds sow their music in the blue fields
over me
An' it seems to grow up into thoughts about the
ven'son-tree.
The apple-blossoms scatter down—a scented summer
snow,
An' man an' wind an' cloud an' sun have all begun
to sow.
The green hopes come a-sproutin' up somewhere
inside o' me,
An' it's time we ought to see the sprouts upon the
ven'son-tree.
The velvet leaves the willow an' adorns the ven'son
bough,
There's new silk in the tree-top an' the coat o' horse
an' cow.
The woods are trimmed fer weddin's, an' are all
in Sunday clo's,
An' the bark upon the ven'son-tree is redder than
a rose.
The days are still an' smoky, an' the nights are
growin' cold,
The maples are a-drippin' blood, the beeches
drippin' gold;
The briers are above my head, the brakes above
my knee,
An' the bark is gettin' kind o' blue upon the ven'son-
tree.
What makes the big trees shake an' groan as if
they all had sinned?
'Tis God A'mighty's reaper with the horses o' the
wind.
He will hitch with chains o' lightnin', He will urge
with thunder call,
He will try the rotten-hearted till they reel an'
break an' fall.
The leaves are driftin' in the breeze, an' gathered
where they lie
Are the colors o' the sunset an' the smell o' the
windy sky;
The squirrels whisk, with loaded mouths, an' stop
an' say to me:
"It's time to gether in the fruit upon the ven'son-
tree."
"What makes ye look so anxious an' what makes
ye speak so low?"
"It's 'cause I'm thinkin' of a place where I'm
a-goin' to go.
"This here I've, been a-tinkerin' which lays acrost
my knee
"Is the axe that I'm a-usin' fer to fell the ven'son-
tree."
I've polished up the iron an' I've covered it with ile,
Its bit is only half an inch, its helve is half a
mile.
(The singer blows an imitation of the startled deer)
"Whew! what's that so pesky—why, it kind o'
frightened me?"
"It's the wind a blowin' through the top o' the
cute ol' ven'son-tree."