The Dream of the Oak
In the stillness of woods, where the shadows softly cling, An oak stands majestically, whispering secrets to spring; With gnarled arms wide open, embracing the frost, In dreams of the seasons, no beauty is lost.
His roots lie deep in the cradle of time, Where the past draws its breath, and stories entwine; Through summer’s warm laughter and winter’s regret, The oak dreams of sunshine and bright dew’s duet.
A tapestry woven where time’s fingers spun, With histories hushed in the warmth of the sun; Yet storms come a-knocking with tempestuous plight, But still in the battle, the oak remains bright.
For he learns from the whispers of stars overhead, As the moon gently cradles the dreams that he treads; In the arms of the night, when all life seems asleep, The oak sings his lullaby, wondrous and deep.
- John Everett Millais