ARBOR DA V MANUAL. 
THE OAK TREE. 
L ONG ago, in changeful autumn, 
When the leaves were turning brown, 
From the tall oak’s topmost branches 
Fell a little acorn down. 
And it tumbled by the pathway, 
And a chance foot trod it deep 
In the ground, where all the winter 
In its shell it lay asleep. 
With the white snow lying over. 
And the frost to hold it fast, 
Till there came the mild spring weather. 
When it burst its shell at last. 
First shot up a sapling tender, 
Scarcely seen above the ground ; 
Then a mimic little oak tree 
Spread its tiny arms around. 
Now it standeth like a giant, 
Casting shadows broad and high, 
With huge trunk and leafy branches 
Spreading up into the sky. 
Child, when happily thou art resting 
’Neath the great oak’s monster shade. 
Think how little was the acorn 
. Whence that mighty tree was made. 
Think how simple things and lowly. 
Have a part in nature’s plan, 
How the great hath small beginnings, 
And the child will be a man. 
Little efforts work great actions, 
Lessons in our childhood taught, 
Mold the spirit to that temper 
Whereby noblest deeds are wrought. 
Cherish then the gifts of childhood, 
Use them gently, guard them well; 
For their future growth and greatness 
Who can measure, who can tell? 
