A Song for the Trees
Oh ancient pillars to the sun,
Thy willful arms do raise,
From shadowed depths of deep disgrace,
Thy fingers whisper praise.
From streams that deep and dark festoon,
And floor in leaves well strewn,
Oh lift thy heads, thou ancient ones,
To gather morning dew.
Well kept thee all the land afar,
And sheltered well beneath.
The earth that gave new life to thee,
And all it’s gentle streams.
And though they come with ax in hand,
And oft’ thy brethren fell,
Thou greatest masters of the woods,
Have born affliction well.
So from the turmoil and decay,
Thy leafy crowns yet raise!
And then our children through the day,
Shall sing the forest’s praise.
And when thy heads from sorrows great,
Thy leafy crowns undone,
Lay down thy head upon the earth,
From whence thy crowns once sprung.
By David W”