THE leaves and tassels of the oak <br />Were golden-green with May, <br />Pavilion whence forever broke <br />Some angel roundelay. <br />A carol like a glory came <br />From topmost twig astir, <br />Enkindled by a flying flame, <br />The scarlet tanager. <br />The tree was glad as Paradise <br />When, eager soul on soul, <br />The saints flock home. There glistened twice <br />A wild-throat oriole; <br />And once the grosbeak's rosy breast <br />Poured its enchanted hymn; <br />While sunny wing and jewel crest <br />Lit many a blissful limb. <br />The whole wide world was in my oak <br />Whose catkins danced for mirth, <br />— Plumes gray as curling city smoke, <br />Plumes brown as fresh-plowed earth; <br />Even heaven had graced our festival, <br />For oft the loving eye <br />Would find, coaxed by a wistful call, <br />The bluebird's fleck of sky.<br /><br />Katharine Lee Bates<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-the-oak/
