The olive
P. Sculthorpe
The olive in its orchard
Should now be rooted sure,
To cast abroad its branches
And flourish and endure.
Aloft amid the trenches
Its dressers dug and died
The olive in its orchard
Should prosper and abide.
Close should the fruit be clustered
And light the leaf should wave,
So deep the root is planted
In the corrupting grave.