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CUMBERED
From seedling slip - to full grown tree,
There reigned, in leafy majesty;
A fig tree; bathed in sun and rain,
At eventide cool breezes came.
'Twas nourished from the fallow ground,
It's bounteous blessings did abound;
Tho it could boast of leafy fare -
Not one fig was gathered there.
From cradle days - to full grown man,
There fathered by a metered span;
A life; unleashed in vain desire,
To topple worlds, he did aspire.
He regaled in a frame of brawn;
Tho evening life was hastening on.
No time for bearing fruit or sheaves,
His life, a sham, was only leaves.
From barren tree - to a fruitless man,
There in between, the mighty span;
Stood Christ; hungering not for figs alone,
But for souls, He could atone.
'Twas on a tree, He gave us food,
The sacrifice, we understood.
The fruit that's borne, must be sound -
E'er you stand on cumbered ground.
-Elizabeth Wallace Morehead-
Copyright owned by the
Wallace and Morehead
families.
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