The Past unto the Present cries—
Arise, ye more than blind, arise!
For I who fell the forest low
Would now another forest grow,
But what is done I cannot mend,
So unto you a message send—
Much did I do for you, for me
Plant a tree,
Plant a tree.

The Present, waking from its sleep,
Across the hills began to creep,
And saw where Past had fallen far
A noble forest, with a scar
On many a wounded mountain side
That from the elements would hide—
And answered:—Past, I will for thee
Plant a tree,
A forest tree.

The feeling Future, yet unborn,
Heard Present echoing her horn,
And stirring somewhat in Life's cell
Did try her dearest wish to tell,
Whispering in an undertone:
I—I shall reap as ye have sown,
O heed the Past! and—thanks to thee—
Plant a tree,
Plant a tree.

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