4122454Copper Sun — The Love TreeCountee Cullen

The Love Tree

COME, let us plant our love as farmers plantA seed, and you shall water it with tears,And I shall weed it with my hands untilThey bleed. Perchance this buried love of oursWill fall on goodly ground and bear a treeWith fruit and flowers; pale lovers chancing hereMay pluck and eat, and through their veins a sweetAnd languid ardor play, their pulses beatAn unimagined tune, their shy lips meetAnd part, and bliss repeat again. And menWill pilgrimage from far and wide to seeThis tree for which we two were crucified,And, happy in themselves, will never know’Twas break of heart that made the Love Tree grow.