The following poem was authored by my grandmother's brother Bramwell Quinton of Charleston, and sent to me by Neal Tremblett. It was printed in a newspaper, presumably The Clarenville Packet, although the publication date isn't known.

The Beauty in Trees

As we look at the countryside and colors see,
Created by the changing season on the tree;
All summer long, they did our world adorn,
Such colors rare, in every shape and form.

The trees that gave us shade from sun's hot rays,
Will soon be bare, when their green leaves decay.
Soon, when the woodland paths we often tread,
We son will find the leaves once green, now dead.

They served their time, while in the summer breeze,
They all displayed the beauty of the trees;
They did their part to help us understand,
We are like leaves, created by God's hand.

There is a lesson we could each one know,
When, like the leaves, we from this earth must go;
May we look back upon our time now spent,
And see somewhere, some service we have lent.

Each tree and each flower, created by God's hand,
Have cheered someone, we may not understand;
But just a flower picked up a child so fair,
May still be treasured by someone for many a year.

All summer long we had the Aspen tree,
It spread its leaves for everyone to see;
The cattle rested there beneath its shade,
Refreshed there by the shelter God had made.

Lives there a person who has failed to see
Our lives displayed in every flower and tree?
Yes, we may die, and live the leaves, decay;
But, resurrected we shall live again some day.

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Last Modified: Saturday, 19-Jun-1999 19:13:06 NDT