Classic Poem

O giant oak, majestic, dark, and old,
A hundred summers in the woodland vast,
From the rich suns that lit thy glories past,
In thy huge trunk thou storedst warmth untold;
Now, when the drifted snows the hills enfold,
And the wild woods are shaken in the blast,
O'er this bright hearth thou sendest out at last
The long-pent sunshine that thine heart did hold.

Like thee, O Noble oak-tree, I would store
From days of joy all beauty and delight,
All radiant warmth that makes life's summer bright,
So that I may, when sunniest hours are o'er,
Still from my heart their treasured gleam outpour,
To cheer some spirit in its winter night.