THE OAK by George Hill
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.
The Oaks of Earth:
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