Though strange the stories, many truths they tell.
They tell of animals and birds and trees,
Of children, flowers, and honeybees;
Of a queer old man, and a quaint old town
With crooked streets that ran up and down.
They tell of these and many, many more.
Still, this I’d add to what has gone before:
In the wood there grows a tree—the thrifty tree—
As wonderful as anything can be!
Its trunk is copper; silver are its leaves;