Huge elm, with rifted trunk all notched and scarred, Like to a warrior's destiny! I love To stretch me often on thy shadowed sward, And hear the laugh of summer leaves above; Or on thy buttressed roots to sit, and lean In careless attitude, and there reflect On times and deeds and darings that have been - Old castaways, now swallowed in neglect, - While thou art towering in thy strength of heart,
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