THE TREE OF PEACE

White Ribbon, Volume 17, Issue 4, 18 May 1945, Page 1

THE TREE OF PEACE

A few feet away from my front door is a tree. It is so tall that 1 have to stoop, when on the verandah, to see its wide, waxing top. Its spreading branches hang over a great space; and to be under them is like being in a dream of poetry. Its leaves are scented; they are very green; and they rustle and glitter in the sunshine. At sunrise, from my bedroom, 1 see its highest branches and leaves suddenly leap into brilliant, golden colour; and as the light intensifies, it brings red glow and diamond glitter into the whole tremendous world which is that tree. Its trunk is magnificent. The grey of its ridged, strong bark has given joy to artists; it is a lovely tint. Some people say the tree is too near the house. Well, it has seen generations come and pass away; it has raised its crown so high that it is a landmark for many; and as yet, does not seem to have done any harm because of its position. Its beauty, shade and sheltering strength give it a claim to remain, at any rate, as long as I have anything to do with it. My lovely tree! In summer, I sit working under it, but so far from its trunk that 1 can see up into the world which is its network of branches and rustling leaves; and it is an unending joy. The

birds flit about inside it; and live their happy lives securely. The very winds seem to love to linger there, and the murmur dies away slowly. When the great gales come, how gloriously the hranfiies wave, as if actually rejoicing in the tempest. It is a part of my life, ami of those who dwell here. Once, low long ago 1 cannot tell, it must have l>een a tiny sapling. It must have needed care, watching, tending. I fid the planter dream that one day it would be what it is today? 1 think he could perhaps have looked forward and thought: “I can only make the beginning, but it will be fine for someone, sonic dav.”

This “Tree of Peace.” We have heard the hells, the sirens, the singing and the cheering, and are beginning to realise that the terrible days of European \\ ur are over; dare w*e say, for ever? Peace is a TREE. It must lie planted, tended, fed, cared for in every way. Too much has been said ami written for more to be necessary here, hut if the Tree is planted in our own hearts, and in our own homes, it may grow to he the grand, joy-giving, healthful guardian of our national and individual, international and worldwide security God help us !o plant now.