University of Virginia Library

THE BELEAGUERED OAK.

Hark! how the winds among the giant boughs
Of the old oak are raging; to and fro
They toss his skeleton limbs, and howl the while,
As if in mockery of his changed estate.
Fain would they rend his noble heart asunder,
And hurl his towering grandeur in the dust,
But he defies them—stubborn in his strength,
He groans, but yields not—he bethinks him too,
Perchance, how soon swift time will give him back
The glory of his prime. Ah, then the winds,
Robbed of their strength, and all their fierceness gone,
Will float around him with an altered tone,
Will sing sweet melodies the livelong day,
And nestle softly, thro' the starry hours,
Amongst his curtaining foliage. Then, a host
Of merry birds will greet him evermore
With their glad lays, till all his young green leaves,
All the quick pulses of his mighty frame,
Thrill with delight—then, summer skies will shower
The golden sunlight on his head by day,
The silvery dew by night, and men will rest
Safe sheltered from the sultry noon-tide glare
Beneath his broad, deep shade. So is he strong,
So steadfast, to withstand the tyranny
Of the rude blast,—and so the peasant, doomed
To toil from morn till eve on the bleak hills,
Doth brave the sufferance, and, with manly soul,
Bear up against the present weariness,
By thinking of the hour when he shall see
The light—ah, not of the great stars in heaven,
But the faint ray, the beacon of his rest,
From his cottage lattice gleaming. On his ear,
In the pauses of his labour, oft doth fall
The welcoming voice of his true-hearted wife,
Or the shrill laughter of his little ones.
He sees the ruddy blaze of his warm hearth;
Feels the sweet sunshine of the smile of home;
And cheered and strengthened by these joys to come,
Turns with blythe spirit to his task again.