A naked tree against the sunset sky,
A tall, black tree whose leaves of emerald sheen,
That blissful birds were won't to peep between,
Long since have fallen. Through her summit high
The winter winds have swept with bitter cry
And left her desolate, a crownless queen,
Yet beautiful for amber lights serene
That all the ebon outlines glorify.
The Light! The Light! 'Mid her abandoned, bare,
Stript branches like a tracery of jet,
Streams heavenly splendor. Fairer to behold
Than all those summer graces they forget,
Her boughs are as a shadow on the air,
A foil, a fretwork in the flood of gold.