THE HANGING TREE

On the edge of town there was an ancient tree, that stood like a mast in a open field, covered round with knotty fists of grey, and mossy green. Folks said it was a hanging tree, cursed and blighted. To purge their minds all thoughts of death they took an axe and cut it down. On their daily rounds they cast their eyes away, from the stump where their deeds cut deep, a calendar with its face toward heaven.