THE DEATH OF A TREE
When I see a tree cut down
whose life was not yet done
I look upon it with a frown
and then look at the sun.
For the sun that nurtured every limb
and every leafy branch
has one less tree to care for
that never had a chance
to say to man
''Don't cut me down.
Don't let me die.
Don't let the sap
within me dry.'
For every tree that's been alive
that's grown upon this earth
is a gift from nature to us all
that's always known its worth.
The problem as I see it
is man who cannot see
just what it probably feels like?
To be the cut down tree.
Edwina Reizer's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (THE DEATH OF A TREE by Edwina Reizer )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
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Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(7 May 1861 – 7 August 1941)
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