Yea, I was happy!
The oak loved me; for I was his sturdiest arm,
And I bore my leaves like an emerald shield.
Oh, I was happy!
But my time came.
The woodman saw me, and he looked at the handle of his axe —
The woodman saw me, and grasped the handle of his axe —
The woodman saw me, and before I could shrink behind my emerald shield,
Ay, even before I could call upon my father oak
To bend his green plume and protect his son,