THEY tell us of an Indian tree Which howsoe'er the sun and sky May tempt its boughs to wander free, And shoot and blossom, wide and high, Far better loves to bend its arms Downward again to that dear earth From which the life, that fills and warms Its grateful being, first had birth. 'Tis thus, though wooed by flattering friends, And fed with fame (if fame it be), This heart, my own dear mother, bends, With love's true instinct, back to thee! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TWILIGHT ON THE DESERT by ETHEL FRANCES BARNARD SONG by CHARLES GRANGER BLANDEN GLIMPSES OF ITALY: 5. LIKE PAESTUM'S TEMPLE by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON THE WESTERNER by CHARLES BADGER CLARK JR. A DREAM OF FLOWERS by TITUS MUNSON COAN NAILSWORTH HILL by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES AND THEN THE WATER by MILO DE ANGELIS |