Run away though you might, you can ne'er escape
The clutching and the clawing of the trees that
Rip and tear and spoil earth below
with their gruesome limbs and laughing branches.
For trees are always just and always right,
Even if inside their rings they rot.
They tower high and tall from age of time,
And storm has ripped all but their pride to shreds.
Beware you do not fall to the deceit of their stature,
For Ax cuts all- and all will bleed.
you'll hear the children scream.