The Old Oak Now Reclines Poem by Emmanuel George Cefai

now in the sweetness of the fading day
when day loses its possessions
power glory and the paraphernalia
the chains are cut and
freedom flows from between the
strat straits of the sea-waters that
through to the Port of Freedom flow
begin to flow
as sunset on horizons of sea with land
in Africa
it falls
it falls

too the old oak reclines after the
rasping of age
with leaves sere as white hair
and ever-bending head of age and
care
and
sorrow
too old, too old the old oak
ah! that oak in it was the
Inner Soul that be my mother

the old oak now reclines
now
in the sweetness of the fading day
when day loses its possessions
power glory and the paraphernalia
the chains are cut and
freedom flows from between the
strat straits of the sea-waters that
through to the Port of Freedom flow
begin to flow
as sunset on horizons of sea with land
in Africa
it falls
it falls