Once the Wind

MARK VAN DOREN
They left him hanging for the deed
His black-eyed brother did.
And still beneath that basswood tree
No wild flower goes to bed.
No daisy but is darker there
For staring all night long
At something once the wind turned round,
Careless of right, of wrong.
They came next day and cut him down,
And the false brother groaned.
But still the black-eyed Susans gaze
At what the wind turned round.
And would, if any man could read,
Tell what was done amiss.
But no man now remembers it,
So long ago it is.