One of my grandma Isabel Leslie Dingledy’s poems,
this one to me, Lynn Haines Dingledy in the 1950s.
“From Holyrood to Hollywood
The tree spread, bare and old;
A dying tree, no more to know
How springtime leaves unfold.
Or so it seemed ’til one glad May
The old tree’s roots struck down…
The taproots nourished anciently
In a far off Scottish town.
Once more the tree is learning
The joy a young shoot brings
As on a branch late-flowering
A little linnet sings.”