The poetical works of Robert Stephen Hawker Edited from the original manuscripts and annotated copies together with a prefatory notice and bibliography by Alfred Wallis |
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AN INSCRIPTION FOR AN AGED OAK. |
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 | The poetical works of Robert Stephen Hawker |  |
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AN INSCRIPTION FOR AN AGED OAK.
Come hither, stranger! I would commune with thee!
Art thou but young? but tender in thy years?
I was a sapling once, and bent my brow
To every breath of heaven that greeted me!
They pass me now, and scarcely move the leaf
That stronger winds have left.
Art thou but young? but tender in thy years?
I was a sapling once, and bent my brow
To every breath of heaven that greeted me!
They pass me now, and scarcely move the leaf
That stronger winds have left.
There was a time
When the soft zephyring spring came joyfully,
Like a young bride, with bloom upon her cheek—
And mine her earliest smile; but she is fled
To her young loves, and scorns my hoary locks.
Learn, then, that friendship passeth as the wind,
That love will fade: and trust thou not in man!
But art thou stricken with departed years,
And bent beneath their burden?
When the soft zephyring spring came joyfully,
Like a young bride, with bloom upon her cheek—
And mine her earliest smile; but she is fled
To her young loves, and scorns my hoary locks.
Learn, then, that friendship passeth as the wind,
That love will fade: and trust thou not in man!
But art thou stricken with departed years,
And bent beneath their burden?
Nearer yet
I bid thee come, there's sympathy between us.
The warmth of many summer suns hath beamed
In kindliness upon me—many dews
Have wept their freshening influence on my leaf.
But now the flowers that spring up at my root
Upbraid my shadeless branches; for the heat
Shines in its parching strength and withers them.
Hast thou a child, old man? Bid him come here,
And I will tell him what it is to live
An isolated thing without a bond
Spun from affection's web; without a tie,
Though but of flax, to bind him to the earth.
And he shall cherish thee, old man, and heed
Even the poor counsel of an aged tree!
I bid thee come, there's sympathy between us.
The warmth of many summer suns hath beamed
In kindliness upon me—many dews
Have wept their freshening influence on my leaf.
But now the flowers that spring up at my root
Upbraid my shadeless branches; for the heat
Shines in its parching strength and withers them.
Hast thou a child, old man? Bid him come here,
And I will tell him what it is to live
An isolated thing without a bond
272
Though but of flax, to bind him to the earth.
And he shall cherish thee, old man, and heed
Even the poor counsel of an aged tree!
| The poetical works of Robert Stephen Hawker | |