Flame and Shadow/The Tree

by Sara Teasdale

For works with similar titles, see The Tree.

 

THE TREE

Oh to be free of myself,
⁠With nothing left to remember,
To have my heart as bare
⁠As a tree in December;

Resting, as a tree rests
⁠After its leaves are gone,
Waiting no more for a rain at night
⁠Nor for the red at dawn;

But still, oh so still
⁠While the winds come and go,
With no more fear of the hard frost
⁠Or the bright burden of snow;

And heedless, heedless
⁠If anyone pass and see
On the white page of the sky
⁠Its thin black tracery.