① You'll be something fine, said Bok to the tree,
though I don't know just what it is, not yet.
② Well then, said the tree: a plank, an oar,
a mast for the dory that rides the long green sea.
③ Could be, said Bok, thumb on the blade, thinking.
Could be any of those things, and more.
④ But cursed am I, said the tree, among my own folk,
if I be made the handle of an ax.