Mulberry In Mourning

O mulberry, once in white glory you stood,
Out in the tombs at the edge of sunset,
Before the two lovers said that they should
Meet at you, and turned your berries scarlet.
O mulberry, mulberry, mulberry tree,
Beloved cenotaph of Pyramus and Thisbe,
O mulberry in mourning, grieve now with me.


O mulberry, beneath your branches she came,
Thisbe with her beauty in her soul and her heart,
Her eyes lit by the evening star’s flame.
Sad! that her destiny and her lover’s must lie apart.
O mulberry, mulberry, mulberry tree,
Beloved cenotaph of Pyramus and Thisbe,
O mulberry in mourning, grieve now with me.

O mulberry, she was frightened by a blood-mouthed
Lioness coming to drink at the fountain nearby.
She fled as the moisture fleets from the drouth,
But as she ran, her thin veil she let fly.
O mulberry, mulberry, mulberry tree,
Beloved cenotaph of Pyramus and Thisbe,
O mulberry in mourning, grieve now with me.

O mulberry, the lioness nuzzled at the frail thing,
Left it stained with her blood and her foam,
Then turned and, as Pyramus’s voice began to sing,
Bounded away into the shade of her rocky home.
O mulberry, mulberry, mulberry tree,
Beloved cenotaph of Pyramus and Thisbe,
O mulberry in mourning, grieve now with me.

O mulberry, Pyramus came on the cloth of Thisbe,
Stared a while at the blood like blood on the snow,
Then lifted the cloth to bear it to the mulberry tree,
Vowing that one lover should with the other go.
O mulberry, mulberry, mulberry tree,
Beloved cenotaph of Pyramus and Thisbe,
O mulberry in mourning, grieve now with me.

O mulberry, he slew himself, and his blood as he died
Rose and spattered upon your fruit shining pale,
Clung and darkened your berries to red as it dried,
Spattered on the Pyramus-kissed, lion-mouthed veil.
O mulberry, mulberry, mulberry tree,
Beloved cenotaph of Pyramus and Thisbe,
O mulberry in mourning, grieve now with me.

O mulberry, she came, and saw her dead love,
And raised her voice in wailing and lamentation.
Then she declared to you listening, and to gods above,
That she would take her lover’s deed as her inspiration.
O mulberry, mulberry, mulberry tree,
Beloved cenotaph of Pyramus and Thisbe,
O mulberry in mourning, grieve now with me.

O mulberry, she took the sword, and in her breast
Buried it as Pyramus had done, died as he died.
But even as her soul fled to take its starlight rest,
She called on you to witness, to hold grief inside.
O mulberry, mulberry, mulberry tree,
Beloved cenotaph of Pyramus and Thisbe,
O mulberry in mourning, grieve now with me.

O mulberry, so it is; so your berries are still red,
Red as the light of the sunset, giving off warning
That once under you Pyramus and Thisbe lay dead.
Dark as blood are your berries, mulberry in mourning!
O mulberry, mulberry, mulberry tree,
Beloved cenotaph of Pyramus and Thisbe,
O mulberry in mourning, grieve now with me.

O mulberry, mulberry, mulberry tree,
Beloved cenotaph of Pyramus and Thisbe,
O mulberry in mourning, grieve now with me.