Helen Hoyt

From “City Pastorals”

HOW will your greenness stay

Now your roots are cut away?

The little tendrils that climbed so high,

The little green leaves still fluttering in the sun,

Will shrivel and wither to dust when your sap is dry.

Your pleasant days are done.

Oh, you turned these bricks into a happy place,

Dancing and growing;

Dancing and throwing

The dancing grace

Of your shadows over the wall

When the winds made your little leaves stir.

When your shade was full of the call

And nesting of birds, you were happy hearing the whir

Of their wings.
Oh, wings and summer days

Will miss you; and men, whose treeless ways

You gladdened in the dusty town.

I wish that we could keep your pleasant sheen;

I wish you need not fade and be cut down.

But buildings are more worth than vines, you know,

Old vine. Forgive this wasting of your precious green:

Forgive us that we had to let you go!