The Oak
Beneath a mighty oak, I rest awhile, His branches high like ancient arms of grace, With the sunlight weaving through, a gentle smile, The shadows dance and soft encircle space.
His leaves are tokens of a storied past, As whispers of time in every rustling sound; While roots run deep, to hold the soil fast, In this sacred stillness, I am unbound.
O giant spirit of the woods so wise, How many hearts have shared thy strength and trust? In every tear that on this bark will rise, A promise blooms, and in that promise, dust.
O shade of God, life’s passage finded, In thy arms, all pain is gently minded.
—Felicia Hemans
- Felicia Hemans