Upon this hill she leaves a-growing. Having planted her seed without her knowing. Faint remnant of her has kept me froming going, Mad with burning to-and-froing. Her tender leaves blanket him.
The tender leaves of the tree on His mountain. Every fallen leaf is a memory of thee worth counting. Watered by the pool of tears, save thee from drowning. Faint remnant of your happy having kept from frowning. Her tender leaves blanket him.
That which is intangible meets that which can be seen. That which is ineffable meets that which has been free. That which keeps me cleaved to you no longer a dream. That a mind conceives He turns into one as precious as thee. Her tender leaves blanket him.
My dear, my love for you is like that tree on His mountain. How did it get there? How has it that it bears its fruit a-plenty? Its supporting roots fed by the flowing tears of its fountain. Its graceful branches and warm leaves casting its shade so gently. Her tender leaves blanket him.
-Suffer me to read with understanding. --Signed, Isaac
