Saga of the Oak and Other Poems

HOARSELY to the midnight moon

Voiced the oak his rugged rune:

“Harken, sibyl Moon, to me;

Hear the saga of the Tree.

“Thou, O queen of splendor, must

Pale and crumble back to dust;

Through slow eons diest thou,—

Doomsday craves my vitals now.

“I am scion of a line

Old, imperial, divine;

Earth produced my ancestor

Ere great Odin was, or Thor.

“From the hursts of holy oak

Fateful gods of Asgard spoke;

In the consecrated shade

Bard and Druid sang and prayed.

“Fostered in an oaken womb

Slept Trifingus, sword of doom;

Therewith woaded Caratak

Drave the steel-sarked Roman back.

“Where, profaned by legioned foes,

In the shuddering forest rose

Mona’s altars flaming rud,

Britain drowned her woe in blood.

“Then the dread decree of Norn

Sounded in the groves forlorn;

Vikings swooping from the North

Harried every scaur and forth.

“Forests fell with crash and roar,

Masted galiots spurned the shore,

Dragon-breasted,—swum the meer,

Daring danger, scouting fear.

“Hengist’s brood and Horsa’s kin,

Seed of Garmund, sons of Finn,

Dane and Saxon sail and sweep

Battling o’er the wrathful deep;

“Hearts of oak! their valor gave

Right of might to rule the wave,

Gave to Nelson’s ocean war

Copenhagen, Trafalgar!

“Bray of trumpet! roll of drum!

When shall Balder’s kingdom come?

Bitter sap shall when grow sweet

In the acorn at my feet?

“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.