Three women walked upon a road,
And the first said airily,
-Of all the trees in all the world
Which is the loving tree?�

The second said, -My eyes have seen
No tree that is not fair;
But the Orange tree is the sweetest tree,
The loving blood is there.�

And the third said, -In the green time
I knew a loving tree
That gave a drink of the blood-red milk,
It was the Mulberry.�

Then the first one said, -Of all the trees
No sweetest can I name;
Ask her who yonder slowly comes-
That woman lean and lame.�

Grief like a hideous suckling hung
Along her hollow breast,
Pain was upon her as she walked,
And as she stooped to rest.

-Why will you question so?� she said,
-Is it to mock at me?
For how should I, who walk in Hell,
Know of a loving tree?

-My eyes are not as woman's eyes,
They hope not east or west:
Dull Famine my bed-mate is,
And Loneliness my guest.

- 'Tis not the most delicious flower
That leaves the scent of Spring,
Nor is it yet the brightest bird
That loads his heart to sing.

-A tree may dance in the white weather
Or dream in a blue gown,
A tree may sing as a sweetheart
To bid the stars come down:

-Some trees are slim and lovable
And some are sleek and strong,
But the tree that has the cripple's heart
Will know the cripple's song.

-The sweetest death is the red death
That comes up nakedly,
And the tree that has the foiled heart
It is the loving tree.

-While ever lip shall seek for lip,
While ever light shall fall,
The tree that has the ruined heart
Is tenderest of all.

-Oh, ye may have your men to kiss,
And children warm to hold,
But the heart that had the hottest love
Was never yet consoled.�

The women three walked on their way,
Their shamed eyes could see
How well the tree with the foiled heart
Is still the loving tree.