a Rilke tree poem

Thinking of the beauty of trees, I've been reading some of my favourite poets for their images and tree-metaphors. Here's one:

"Prelude

Whoever you are: at evening step forth
out of your room, where all is known to you;
last thing before the distance lies your house:
whoever you are.
With your eyes which wearily
scarce from the much-worn threshold free themselves,
you lift quite slowly a black tree
and place it against the sky: slender, alone.
And you have made the world. And it is large
and like a word that yet in silence ripens.
And as your will takes in the sense of it,
tenderly your eyes let it go . . . "

Rainer Maria Rilke as translated by M.D. Herter Norton, 1938