Alone he stood
'neath aging old tree,
The Hawthorne, life giver,
and healer to thee.

Born together, saw ages
of men passing by.
White stag and the Hawthorne,
knowing they now must die.

"This last time I ask"
begged the stag of the tree.
"Hold your branches wide open,
I pray they bathe me."

The magic has passed
from our world, lives no more,
Cleanse my soul, send me onward,
to the clear saphire shore.

"Love, my first love,
she sleeps there in time,
She awaits me, brown doe,
soft and gentle in rhyme."

"Then join us great tree,
to your place in the sky,
Venus, God's home,
where roots never die."

Then the stag lay beneath
shadow of his great tree,
The spirit of death
coming swiftly for he.

Yet joy filled his soul
as his mortal life failed,
"Bless you tree, I am cleansed,
My soul free to sail."