University of Virginia Library

There grew upon a sandy hill
An oak and poplar tree;
The oak seemed almost to stand still,
Its growth you scarce could see;
For years its strong, and stubborn roots
Were burrowing 'neath the ground,
While on its trunk no lofty shoots,
Nor spreading limbs were found.
The poplar shot up tall and fast,
And looked around with pride;
And o'er the oak its shadow cast,
As 'twould its neighbor hide;
Its bright leaves glittered in the sun,
And danced in every breeze;
From all it admiration won;
While none the oak could please.
A century passed.—The tardy oak
Had reared its head on high,
And praise, and reverence bespoke
From every passer by;
A hundred arms it had outspread,
Its thick, and gnarled form
Seemed not the lightning's bolt to dread,
Nor fear the wildest storm!
Fit for man's use, it waiting stood
To rib the stout ship's side;
And bear him safely o'er the flood,
Without its aid denied;
Or form, with timbers tough and strong,
His dwelling's massive frame;
That should protect the builder long,
And still hand down his name.
And there, around the parent tree,
A thousand younger stood;
That, age on age, for man should be
A magazine of wood;
And, on its boughs, the acorns still
In countless numbers hung,
The falling forest's place to fill,
And keep it ever young.

The quick-grown poplar long had ceased
To be remembered there,
The old men told, “how it increased,
And flourished once so fair;
That many nurseries were made,
'Twas planted through the town,
And much admired for growth and shade,
But short-lived its renown!
For soon”, they said, “its tender frame
The blustering winds o'erthrew;”
And now 'tis scarcely known by name,
Where once in pride it grew.