Fig Tree

I sit under a fig tree

And play with a pluck-ed stem

Decorated with its leaves

Sitting along the River Thame.

From what this tree is

Comes from what it once was

An insignificant sapling

From an insignificant cause.

Looking through its branches

Up towards the sky

I see many figs hung like jewels

Sparkling way up high.

Sunny skies and River Thames

Have made this tree what it is

And in return it’s fruits

Are what it unlimitedly gives.

So as this mighty fig tree

Has grown beyond belief

Is then picked upon by a girl

And turned into a wreath.