ARDOR DA Y MANUAL. 



THE OAK. 



A GLORIOUS tree is the old gray oak; 

 He has stood for a thousand years 

 Has stood and frowned 

 On the trees around, 

 Like a king among his peers ; 

 As around their king they stand, so now, 



When the flowers their pale leaves fold 

 The tall trees round him stand, arrayed 

 In their robes of purple and gold. 

 He has stood like a tower 

 Through sun and shower, 

 And dared the winds to battle ; 

 He has heard the hail, 

 As from plates of mail, 

 From his own limbs shaken, rattle ; 

 He has tossed them about, and shorn the tops 



(When the storm has roused his might) 

 Of the forest trees, as a strong man doth 

 The heads of his foes in fight. 



GEORGE HILL. Fall of the Oak. 



THE young oak grew, and proudly grew, 



For its roots were deep and strong ; 

 And a shadow broad on the earth it threw, 



And the sunlight lingered long 

 On its glossy leaf where the flickering light 



Was flung to the evening sky; 

 And the wild bird sought to its airy height 



And taught her young to fly. 



MRS. E. OAK.ES SMITH. 



WITH his gnarled old arms and his iron form, 



Majestic in the wood, 

 From age to age, in sun and storm, 



The live-oak long has stood ; 

 And generations come and go, 



And still he stands upright, 

 And he sternly looks on the world below, 



As conscious of his might. 



THE oak, for grandeur, strength, and noble size, 

 Excels all trees that in the foi'est grow ; 



From acorn small, that trunk, those branches rise, 

 To which such signal benefits we owe. 



