Why the Willow Tree Weeps, or, The Tale Of Lithrean (Archived)

This tale of Lithrean, the beautiful child,
Who grew up amongst the forests quite wild,
Looked after only by the bird’s sonorous song
No one was there to guide Lithrean from wrong
And so she remained, perpetually beguiled.

She grew older and fairer, her face radiant as the sun
Her life she spent as peaceful as a nun,
Her pass time were the plants and trees,
Who grew under her care with ease,
No one knew of her, and she needed no one

Till one day she caught sight of a man,
Basking underneath the sun with a fan,
It seemed to her she had never seen before,
Someone so gallant, so well-formed, so sure,
And love hit her then, without any plan

Shyly she approached him and he gazed at her face,
Saw it to be suited to his impeccable taste
And so began a courtship that was soon fast paced.

Lithrean felt she had never been so contented,
She forgot her plants though no ill will was intended,
Left them neglected, for the young man’s bed
He was in no disagreement, when his passion was fed
And gratefully accepted the love with which he was attended

Weeks then months then years passed away,
And the already aged Lithrean grew older by the day,
Her beautiful faced faded,
He soon become discontented,
And longed for another, more prettier prey

Before long, he found a fair lass to his liking
And thoughtlessly sought an affair with her in hiding
For he was afraid of Lithrean’s rage
But she loved him so, even more with age
And so on he went, confident of her love abiding

Of course things could never be hidden for long
What Lithrean found, she thought at first was wrong
She paid an uncalled visit to her lover
Found him and the lass under the covers
And her rage shifted mountains, her anger hell strong

In her moment of fury she picked up the knife
And stabbed the soon to be husband and wife
And when all was done to the bodies
That let her vent out all her furies
She finally felt remorse of taking their life

She ran to her plants, which had grown withered, neglected
And begged to be let back, to not be rejected,
They all turned away, save the old willow tree,
It beckoned to her, “Lithrean, come to me”
“Sing yourself to me, and you can escape,
Give yourself to me and be free of this life you hate”
And Lithrean followed its path willingly.


For three days and three nights Lithrean sung,
Her voice unravelling the life she had spun,
Her soul, her age, they all flowed away,
To the willow tree’s embrace, to where they would stay,
And as for life, Lithrean now had none.

And now for those who have done with their deeds,
They are told to go to the old willow tree,
Who will cry for them, for their joys and their tears,
And curse those who have not learnt to fear,
That love and life is for eternity.