The Lonesome Oak

The lonesome Oak atop a hill,

            With branches thick and roots so strong.

Fought to keep his leaves set still,

            That others gaze with praising song.

 

A humble tree within the wood,

            Set among his fellow kin.

Meek and gentle he idly stood,

            With branches long and roots so thin.

 

The Oak did sing his mighty song,

            Proud and brave for all to see.

And when at once they came along,

            He shone and swayed with hollow glee.

 

The humble tree among his brothers,

            Did not heed the voice of others.

For how could they, with foreign eye,

            See the scars that made him wry.

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The Oak grew famous, both far and wide,

            To none that stood upon his side.

And when they came, not one akin,

            They cut his branches and carved his skin.

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But the tree once set beside his friend,

            Stood not apart from those abreast.

And when he fell in winsome end,

            His brothers stood so he could rest.