Old OakThe old oak spread its leaves to the lightEnjoying 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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