swamp hellebore

Beautiful Swamp Hellebore making up into leaf

Flowering

Along this fine stream bank

You are clad to the end

Of your long arms

With a wild vine.

Two teeming troupes of ants

Have made a

Barracks under your stem

And in your half-eaten trunk,

The bees

Have arranged their lair.

The noble Golden Tort Beetle

Newly joined

With his beloved,

To enable his amours

Comes to live

Each year in your steams.

Under your shade he builds his nest

Well furnished

With saliva and fine plant silk,

Where his little ones will hatch,

The gentle prey of my hands.

Now live, gentle sweet tree,

Live for ever

Live without ever thunder

Or the axe, or the winds

Or the weather

Making you fall to the ground.