There is a tree grows upside down,

Its roots are in the sky;

Its lower branches reach the earth

When amorous winds are nigh.

One lone bough there starkly hangs

A Man just crucified,

And all the other branches bear

The choice fruits of the Bride.

When Pleasure’s wind goes frisking past,

Unhallowed by a prayer,

It swirls dead leaves from earth-born trees,

Old growths of pride and care.

The gracious fruits are hidden by

These leaves of human stain;

The crucified, beneath his load

Shudders as if in pain.

But swift springs down a credal wind,

It thrills through all the boughs;

The dead leaves scatter and are lost:

The Christ renews his vows.

His hands direct the Spirit’s wind

Branch after branch to shake;

The Bride’s fruit drops, and at the touch

Elected hearts awake.

Jack Clemo (1916-94), The Winds