Helen Gray Cone
The Gifts Of The Oak - Poem by Helen Gray Cone
'There needs no crown to mark the forest's king.'
Thus, long ago thou sang'st the sound-heart tree
Sacred to sovereign Jove, and dear to thee
Since first, a venturous youth with eyes of spring,-
Whose pilgrim-staff each side put forth a wing,-
Beneath the oak thou lingeredst lovingly
To crave, as largess of his majesty,
Firm-rooted strength, and grace of leaves that sing.
He gave; we thank him! Graciousness as grave,
And power as easeful as his own he gave;
Long broodings rich with sun, and laughters kind;
And singing leaves, whose later bronze is dear
As the first amber of the budding year,-
Whose voices answer the autumnnal wind.
Comments about The Gifts Of The Oak by Helen Gray Cone
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.