The Oak Tree

Sing for the oak tree,

The monarch of the wood;

Sing for the oak tree

That groweth green and good;

That groweth broad and branching,

Within the forest shade;

That groweth now, and yet shall grow

When we are lowly laid.

The oak tree was an acorn once,

And fell upon the earth;

And the sun and showers nourished it,

And gave the oak tree birth.

The little sprouting oak tree!

Two leaves it had at first,

Till sun and showers had nourished it,

Then out the branches burst.

The little sapling oak tree!

Its roots are like a thread,

Till the kindly earth had nourished it,

Then out it freely spread.

On this side and on that side

It grappled with the ground,

And in the ancient rifted rock

Its firmest footing found.