The Oak
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- What gnarled stretch, what depth of shade, is his!
- There needs no crown to mark the forest's king;
- How in his leaves outshines full summer's bliss!
- Sun, storm, rain, dew, to him their tribute bring,
- Which he with such benignant royalty 5
- Accepts, as overpayeth what is lent;
- All nature seems his vassal proud to be,
- And cunning only for his ornament.
- How towers he, too, amid the billowed snows,
- An unquelled exile from the summer's throne, 10
- Whose plain, uncinctured front more kingly shows,
- Now that the obscuring courtier leaves are flown.
- His boughs make music of the winter air,
- Jewelled with sleet, like some cathedral front
- Where clinging snow-flakes with quaint art repair 15
- The dints and furrows of time's envious brunt.
- How doth his patient strength the rude March wind
- Persuade to seem glad breaths of summer breeze,
- And win the soil that fain would be unkind,
- To swell his revenues with proud increase! 20
- He is the gem; and all the landscape wide
- (So doth his grandeur isolate the sense)
- Seems but the setting, worthless all beside,
- An empty socket, were he fallen thence.
- So, from oft converse with life's wintry gales, 25
- Should man learn how to clasp with tougher roots
- The inspiring earth; how otherwise avails
- The leaf-creating sap that sunward shoots?
- So every year that falls with noiseless flake
- Should fill old scars up on the stormward side, 30
- And make hoar age revered for age's sake,
- Not for traditions of youth's leafy pride.
- So, from the pinched soil of a churlish fate,
- True hearts compel the sap of sturdier growth,
- So between earth and heaven stand simply great, 35
- That these shall seem but their attendants both;
- For nature's forces with obedient zeal
- Wait on the rooted faith and oaken will;
- As quickly the pretender's cheat they feel,
- And turn mad Pucks to flout and mock him still.[18] 40
- Lord! all Thy works are lessons; each contains
- Some emblem of man's all-containing soul;
- Shall he make fruitless all Thy glorious pains,
- Delving within Thy grace an eyeless mole?
- Make me the least of thy Dodona-grove,[19] 45
- Cause me some message of thy truth to bring,
- Speak but a word to me, nor let thy love
- Among my boughs disdain to perch and sing.
- [Footnote 18: See Shakspeare's _A Midsummer Night's Dream_.]
- [Footnote 19: A grove of oaks at Dodona, in ancient Greece, was the
- seat of a famous oracle.]
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