Trim set in ancient sward, his manful bole <br /> Upbore his frontage largely toward the sky. <br />We could not dream but that he had a soul: <br /> What virtue breathed from out his bravery! <br /> <br />We gazed o'erhead: far down our deepening eyes <br /> Rained glamours from his green midsummer mass. <br />The worth and sum of all his centuries <br /> Suffused his mighty shadow on the grass. <br /> <br />A Presence large, a grave and steadfast Form <br /> Amid the leaves' light play and fantasy, <br />A calmness conquered out of many a storm, <br /> A Manhood mastered by a chestnut-tree! <br /> <br />Then, while his monarch fingers downward held <br /> The rugged burrs wherewith his state was rife, <br />A voice of large authoritative Eld <br /> Seemed uttering quickly parables of life: <br /> <br />`How Life in truth was sharply set with ills; <br /> A kernel cased in quarrels; yea, a sphere <br />Of stings, and hedge-hog-round of mortal quills: <br /> How most men itched to eat too soon i' the year, <br /> <br />`And took but wounds and worries for their pains, <br /> Whereas the wise withheld their patient hands, <br />Nor plucked green pleasures till the sun and rains <br /> And seasonable ripenings burst all bands <br /> <br />`And opened wide the liberal burrs of life.' <br /> There, O my Friend, beneath the chestnut bough, <br />Gazing on thee immerged in modern strife, <br /> I framed a prayer of fervency -- that thou, <br /> <br />In soul and stature larger than thy kind, <br /> Still more to this strong Form might'st liken thee, <br />Till thy whole Self in every fibre find <br /> The tranquil lordship of thy chestnut tree.<br /><br />Sidney Lanier<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/under-the-cedarcroft-chestnut/
