The bare limbs of a lonely tree Stand stark against the sky. They touch the cloud of winter gray That wanders slowly by.

Once in spring, in golden light, Full of the joy of the morn, Enveloped in buds and blooms, The tree of life was born.

But now the winds of autumn howl, The songs of summer cease. The branch with once a flowered crown Stands stripped of grace and peace.

• Joyce Kilmer