There rolls the deep where grew the tree
O earth, what changes hast thou seen!
There where the long straight branches reign,
There, where the ancient oak hath been— The memory of each mighty root,
That drank from waters thro’ the years,
Still whispers to the passing tide
In quiet tones, it brings us tears.

And as the winds of time drift by,
As petals drop, and silence grows,
The thoughts of storms and past sublime
Will greet us where the wild river flows.

• Alfred Lord Tennyson