202 ARBOR DAY 



Of Thy perfections. Grandeur, strength, and grace 



Are here to speak of Thee. This mighty oak 



By whose immovable stem I stand, and seem 



Almost annihilated not a prince 



In all the proud Old World beyond the deep 



E'er wore his crown as loftily as he 



Wears the green coronal of leaves with which 



Thy hand has graced him. 



Nestled at his root 



Is beauty such as blooms not in the glare 

 Of the broad sun. That delicate forest-flower, 

 With scented breath and look so like a smile, 

 Seems, as it issues from the shapeless mold, 

 An emanation of the indwelling Life, 

 A visible token of the upholding Love, 

 That are the soul of this wide universe, 



My heart is awed within me when I think 



Of the great miracle that still goes on 



In silence round me the perpetual work 



Of Thy creation, finished, yet renewed 



Forever. Written on Thy works I read 



The lesson of Thy own eternity. 



Lo! all grow old and die; but see again 



How, on the faltering footsteps of decay, 



Youth presses ever gay and beautiful youth 



In all its beautiful forms. These lofty trees 



Wave not less proudly than their ancestors 



Holder beneath them. 



