The Old Tree
by Richard Pemberton
The old beech tree, so green and gray!
How oft I've heard thee, whispering say,
With beckoning branches waving low,
"Rest here, where cooling breezes blow!"
And in thy shadows deep and dark,
How oft I've touched thy cool gray bark;
And still I bless thee, old beech tree,
For old sweet memories dear to me.
Repeat the stories yet half told
Of those who carved their names so bold!
In whispers tell of them today,
O venerable beech, so green and gray!
The old beech tree, so green and gray,
The old-time welcome gives today,
With beckoning branches reaching down
To mother earth all garbed in brown.
Thy gnarled, bark-covered roots up-bend
A further welcome to extend.
Thy low-extending branches wave,
As though a green-robed prelate gave
A benediction, and had blessed
A people weary and oppressed.
And so I rest with thee today,
My old beech tree, so green and gray!