Huge elm, with rifted trunk all notched and scarred, <br />Like to a warrior's destiny! I love <br />To stretch me often on thy shadowed sward, <br />And hear the laugh of summer leaves above; <br />Or on thy buttressed roots to sit, and lean <br />In careless attitude, and there reflect <br />On times and deeds and darings that have been - <br />Old castaways, now swallowed in neglect, - <br />While thou art towering in thy strength of heart, <br />Stirring the soul to vain imaginings <br />In which life's sordid being hath no part. <br />The wind of that eternal ditty sings, <br />Humming of future things, that burn the mind <br />To leave some fragment of itself behind.<br /><br />John Clare<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-shepherd-s-tree/
