“O tree, so big and stout and strong,
You’ve lived for so very, very long;
A hundred years or more, I’m told,
And yet you’re not so very old.
A hundred stories you could tell
Of children whom you love so well,
Who came and sat beneath your shade
Or underneath your branches played.
A hundred birds have built their nests,
Your leaves have softly kissed their breast,
Your branches seem to touch the sky,
Yet you were once as small as I.
Some day when I have grown up, too,
I’m coming back to visit you,
And changed though other things will be
I’ll find the same dear friendly tree.