University of Virginia Library

I SAW in Louisiana a live-oak growing,
All alone stood it, and the moss hung down from the
     branches,
Without any companion it grew there, uttering joyous
     leaves of dark green,
And its look, rude, unbending, lusty, made me think
     of myself,
But I wondered how it could utter joyous leaves,
     standing alone there, without its friend, its
     lover near—for I knew I could not,
And I broke off a twig with a certain number of
     leaves upon it, and twined around it a little
     moss,
And brought it away—and I have placed it in sight
     in my room,
It is not needed to remind me as of my own dear
     friends,
(For I believe lately I think of little else than of
     them,)
Yet it remains to me a curious token—it makes me
     think of manly love;
For all that, and though the live-oak glistens there in
     Louisiana, solitary, in a wide flat space,
Uttering joyous leaves all its life, without a friend, a
     lover, near,
I know very well I could not.