STORY OF THE POPLAR 163 



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. 



Then 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. 



MARY HOWITT. 



STORY OF THE POPLAR 



old man once found the pot of gold that 

 lies at the foot of the rainbow. 



He snatched it up and put it under his cloak. 



Then he started home through the forest. 



When the dry twigs and leaves crackled under 

 his feet, he was frightened and looked behind 

 him. 



