THE OAK. WHAT gnarled stretch, what depth of shade, is his There needs no crown to mark the forest's king; How in his leaves outshines full summer's bliss! Sun, storm, rain, dew, to him their tribute bring, Which he with such benignant royalty Accepts, as overpayeth what is lent; All nature seems his vassal proud to be, And cunning only for his ornament. How towers he, too, amid the billowed snows, Jewelled with sleet, like some cathedral front Where clinging snow-flakes with quaint art repair The dints and furrows of time's envious brunt. How doth his patient strength the rude March wind Persuade to seem glad breaths of summer breeze, And win the soil that fain would be unkind, To swell his revenues with proud increase! He is the gem; and all the landscape wide (So doth his grandeur isolate the sense) Seems but the setting, worthless all beside, An empty socket, were he fallen thence. So, from oft converse with life's wintry gales, Should man learn how to clasp with tougher roots The inspiring earth;-how otherwise avails So, from the pinched soil of a churlish fate, True hearts compel the sap of sturdier growth, So between earth and heaven stand simply great, That these shall seem but their attendants both; For nature's forces with obedient zeal Wait on the rooted faith and oaken will; As quickly the pretender's cheat they feel, And turn mad Pucks to flout and mock him still Lord! all thy works are lessons,—each contains Cause me some message of thy truth to bring, Speak but a word through me, nor let thy love Among my boughs disdain to perch and sing. AMBROSE. NEVER, surely, was holier man Than Ambrose, since the world began; He shielded himself from the father of sin; Through earnest prayer and watchings long At last he builded a perfect faith, Fenced round about with The Lord thus saith; Then Ambrose said, "All those shall die One day, as Ambrose was seeking the truth It had never been given him to see So shining a face, and the good man thought So he set himself by the young man's side, "As each beholds in cloud and fire The soul of Ambrose burned with zeal Now there bubbled beside them where they stood, The youth to the streamlet's brink drew near Saying, "Ambrose, thou maker of creeds, look here!" Six vases of crystal then he took, And set them along the edge of the brook. pour, "As into these vessels the water I O thou, who wouldst unity make through strife, When Ambrose looked up, he stood alone, The youth and the stream and the vases were gone; But he knew, by a sense of humbled grace, As he fell on his knees beneath the tree. |