Old Oak

The old oak spread its leaves to the light
Enjoying the warmth after the night
And sang the old song that oaks have sung
Since the oaks of Earth were first begun.
He sang to the soil, he sang to the sun,
To the skies and the birds; to everyone:
"Rest under my leaves, nest in my boughs,
Come sit awhile as time allows."
He watched as centuries rolled by
And sang his song for you and I
As once he sang for Arthur's court
And those who chased a fox for sport.
For those who left for foreign wars,
And those who died on foreign shores,
His song of peace the old oak sings,
For commoners and even kings.
He still spreads his leaves each day
And sings for those who went away
And sings for those he hopes will stay
Under his boughs to heal and pray.

    Enid Vien

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