We have planted it deep in the yielding soil,
Hard by the house of prayer;
And the cool air plays through its leafy top,
As it stands in silence there.
It is young like ourselves; but, day by day,
The dews of heaven will fall,—
And the gladsome rays of the summer sun,
That shines for each and all;
And, under their gentle ministry,
It will grow both stout and tall.
Then will the roots of the stately tree
Have spread both far and wide;
And perchance its branches will overtop
The church that stands beside;
And safe amid its clustering leaves
Will summer birds abide.
[76]
And those who, full of youthful life,
About the sapling played,
With sober mien and whitened locks
Will stand beneath its shade,
And ponder with a thoughtful brow
On the changes Time has made.
The years will roll, with a steady course,
To meet Time’s infinite sea;
And the silent waves, in their fearful sweep,
Will ingulf both you and me;
But still, like a beacon that tells of the past,
Will stand our first elm-tree.