To muster growth we oft beseech
Those parts in us, for freedom yearn!
And bend before the highest reach—
A foliage past all concern.

With lowered heads, the skies revealed
Unto the seekers, meek, the crude:
What planted in an open field
Redemption gains in solitude.

Alas! Exclaims the sooted bough,
Let darkness fall, the forests ring!
If what you reap is what you sow,
Eternal souls—the Light will bring.

As love dictates, the heart agrees:
No branch should heed the vengeful axe;
Reject its slash, ye holy trees!
All leaves must drop, the dome relax.