Ode To The Grand Oak (A Folly)
O, Mr Tree with all your might
by Thomas Dorman
What is the purpose of your plight?
To house the birds and soak the light?
To shade my eyes when the sun is too bright?
To allow me to lean back when I write
A poem questioning your very own plight?
O, Mr Tree you stand firm in the night
When the Wind doth conspire to cause you some fright
As your leaves, they are torn from their birthright
You stand fast and never move in the slight.
The squirrels, your fruits may perchance to bite,
But with you, O, Oak, that's quite alright
For thou art a tree and such a sight
Is an act of Nature, of Grace and Right
And so you permit the squirrels' plight
For thou art a Tree, a symbol of Might.