THE TWO ACORNS. 



DR. CHARLES MACKAY. 



In ancient time, two acorns, in their 

 cups, 



Shaken by winds and ripeness from the 

 tree. 



Dropped side by side into the ferns and 

 grass; 



"Where have I fallen — to what base re- 

 gion come?" 



Exclaimed the one. "The joyous breeze 

 no more 



Rocks me to slumber on the sheltering 

 bough; 



The sunlight streams no longer on my 

 face; 



I look no more from altitudes serene 



Upon the world reposing far below — 



Its plains, its hills, its rivers, and its 

 woods. 



To me the nightingale sings hymns no 

 more; 



But I am made companion of the worm, 



And rot on the chill earth. Around 

 me grow 



Nothing but useless weeds, and grass, 

 and fern, 



Unfit to hold companionship with me. 



Ah, me! most wretched! rain and frost 

 and dew 



And all the pangs and penalties of 

 earth 



Corrupt me where I lie — degenerate." 



And thus the acorn made its daily moan. 



The other raised no murmur of com- 

 plaint 



And looked with no contempt upon the 

 grass 



Nor called the branching fern a worth- 

 less weed 



Nor scorned the woodland flowers that 

 round it blew. 



All silently and piously it lay 



Upon the kindly bosom of the earth. 



It blessed the warmth with which the 



noonday sun 

 Made fruitful all the ground; it loved 



the dews, 

 The moonlight and the snow, the frost 



and rain 

 And all the change of seasons as they 



passed. 

 It sank into the bosom of the soil. 

 The bursting life, enclosed within its 



husk. 

 Broke through its fetters; it extended 



roots 

 And twined them freely in the grateful 



ground; 

 It sprouted up and looked upon the 



light; 

 The sunshine fed it; the embracing air 

 Endowed it with vitality and strength; 

 The rains of heaven supplied it nour- 

 ishment. 

 And so from month to month, and year 



to year. 

 It grew in beauty and in usefulness. 

 Until its large circumference enclosed 

 Shelter for flocks and herds; until its 



boughs 

 Afforded homes for happy multitudes — 

 The dormouse and the chaffinch and 



the jay 

 And countless myriads of minuter life; 

 Until its bole, too vast for the embrace 

 Of human arms, stood, in the forest 



depths. 

 The model and glory of the wood. 

 Its sister acorn perished in its pride. 



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