Easter-Tree
by Nevill Coghill Upon a hill towards the sun,When part of my pilgrimage was done,I found my lover in a tree,Gathering bitter fruit for me.The branches tore his hands and feet,Yet, on the fruit he bade me eat,The bitterness was washed away;And in a year that was a dayThe tree was sometimes wild with flower,Sometimes a green and leafy bower,Sometimes Read More ›



