When Christ was on earth, the dogwood grew

To a towering size with a lovely hue.

Its branches were strong and interwoven

And for Christ's cross its timbers were chosen.

Being distressed at the use of the wood

Christ made a promise which still holds good

Not ever again shall the dogwood grow

To be large enough for a tree, and so

Slender and twisted it shall always be

With cross-shaped blossoms for all to see.

The petals shall have bloodstains marked brown

And in the blossom's center a thorny crown.

All who see it will think of me,

Nailed to a cross from a dogwood tree.

Protected and cherished this tree shall be

A reflection to all of my agony.