Fruitful
Springtime’s
dawn has clothed bare arms
In dreamy
dress from town to farms.
On shady
lane, by shallow pond,
A stand of
maiden trees look on.
Ornamental
Pear are they,
Shaped,
sweet, shy, they curtsy-sway.
Alas! Their
beauty only stays
Until the
end of springtime days.
Of course,
a dress of green is worn,
But never
have they pear fruit borne.
I fear to
be like this “faux-pear”
Having
limbs that never bear,
Giving
gardener never fruit,
Though he
tend and dung the root.
Oh what
care my Gardener’s given!
Even
pruner’s mercy-driven!
Oh, LORD!
let me fruitful be:
Fruit, much
fruit, more fruit for Thee!
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