“Centuries do I stand here
Thinking thoughts profound and drear,
Dreaming solemn dreams sublime
Of the mysteries of Time.
“Roots of mine do feed on graves;
I have eaten bones of braves;
In the ground the learnéd gnomes
Read to me their cryptic tomes.
“Annals treasured in the air
All the past to me declare;
Every wind of heaven brings
Tribute for me on its wings.
“Through my silence proud and lone
Whispers waft from the Unknown:
Musing eld hath second ken—
Moon! the dead shall live again.
“Sun-scorch have I borne, and pangs
From the gnaw of winter’s fangs;
Fought tornadoes, nor forsook
Roothold when the mountains shook.
“Oft the zig-zag thunder hath
Struck me with his fiery scath,—
To my core the havoc sped,
Yet I never bowed my head.
“I am weary of the years;
Overthrown are all my peers,
Slain by steel or storm or flame,—
I would perish too—the same.
“Yet shall I a little space
Linger still in life’s embrace
Ere metempsychosing time
Drag me down to Niflheim.
“Wherefore shun or summon fate?
Wisest they who sanely wait;
In my fiber nature saith,
Life is good and good is death.
“Mated birds of procreant Spring
In my branches build and sing;
Grass is green and flowers bloom
Where I spread my golden gloom;