Angelina W. Grimke (Angelina Weld Grimke), "Trees" (1928)
He spoke and gnarled of bole or silken sleek
They grew; majestic browed or very meek;
Huge-bodied, slim; sedate and full of glees.
And He had pleasure deep in all of these.
And to them, soft and little tongues to speak
Of Him to us, He gave; wherefore they seek
From dawn to dawn to bring us to our knees.
* * * *
Yet here amid the wistful sounds of leaves,
A black-hued grewsome something swings and swings
Laughter it knew and joy in little things,
Till man's hate ended all. —And so man weaves.
And God, how slow, how very slow weaves He—
Was Christ Himself not nailed to a tree?
Published in Carolina Magazine, May 1928