An Aged Pine

Serene it stands upon a little hill
An aged pine, though straight and stalwart still
Its gnarled branches many a year have borne
The fierce and fiery temper of the storm
Beneath its spreading shade, at full of moon
Lovers have lingered, and to Love's old Tune
Have once again the same old story told
To one another, 'neath that giant old,
While it unheeding casts its branches high,
And throws defiance to an azure sky,
And all around the world goes on unknown
To it ignoring, as monarch on his throne
It stands, a hoary and an aged tree,
Defying death, seeming eternally.

—J.A.C.