Suicide Letter from a Tree

Would I were a carpenter like Jesus C. himself;
would I could create from wood a bed or bench or shelf;
would I manned the nimble hands of crafty sylvan elf;
wood I were, but flesh, good sir, would nearer suit myself.

Would I were a connoisseur of artistry refined;
would I could create from wood some talisman or shrine;
would I manned the subtle land the masters hand designed;
wood I were, but paint, for sure, would better me define.

Would I were a saboteur, a crafty fox or wren;
would I could create from wood a secret box or pen;
would I manned the golden strand like spiders in the fen;
wood I were, but windy blur would well increase my ken.

Would I were a Douglas-fir in evergreen perfume;
would I could create from wood a massive trough or flume;
would I manned the mountains and the festive sitting room;
wood I were, but I demur when would another bloom.

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