Round many a tenderest bridal nest,
Since that saddest of tales all hearts enshrined
In the lay of the “Old Oak Chest.”
What matter if centuries long
Have hidden a part of the mystery deep
That lay in the Druids’ re-echoing song,
When it glistened in Stonehenge’s mighty heap?
For enough still remains to make sure the truth
That it symbolled the great Perennial Good,
And they saw from its joints springing Endless Youth