 | Songs of A Wayfarer |  |
CXCIX.
[Lo! yonder oak whose branches loved to spread]
Lo! yonder oak whose branches loved to spreadTheir generous shade through all the sunny time,
When amorous birds sang many a gallant rhyme,
And winds were hushed, and blue skies overhead;
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Yet still around its sapless trunk—sublime
Even in decay—thick wreaths of ivy climb,
Green as the leafy glory it has shed:
Thus, when the good man's life on earth is past,
About his memory souls distraught shall cling,
Finding support through many a stormy blast,
And round his deathless name fresh garlands bring;
That so his noble virtues may outlast
The tomb, and make this life a sweeter thing.
| Songs of A Wayfarer | |