Page:Poems Toke.djvu/174

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166

While at their feet the grey-haired man,
Almost as happy then,
Threw in the fresh-turned earth, and felt
For that hour young again.

But deep the moral nature points
On all the things of time;
Sweet babes! ye scarce can hope to see
That sapling in its prime.
Yet, when the light of childhood shone
Upon that old man's brow,
The ancient trees around him waved
As vast and proud as now.

His task is done; the last green turf
Around the tree is pressed,
And on his work the aged man
Gazes with swelling breast;—
"There firm and straight it stands, my hand
Can do no more, I trow;
God's blessing now, His sun and rain,
Alone can make it grow.

"And thou, fair boy, my master's son!
Oh, may'st thou live to see
That little sapling thou hast held
A brave and shadowy tree!
And should thy days be spared like mine,
Till thou art old and grey,
Forget not thou the aged man
Who planted it to-day."