Samuel GardnerI who kept the greenhouse,Lover of trees and flowers,Oft in life saw this umbrageous elm,Measuring its generous branches with my eye,And listened to its rejoicing leavesLovingly patting each otherWith sweet aeolian whispers.And well they might:For the roots had grown so wide and deepThat the soil of the hill could not withholdAught of its virtue, enriched by rain,And warmed by the sun;But yielded it all to the thrifty roots,Through which it was drawn and whirled to the trunk,And thence to the branches, and into the leaves,Wherefrom the breeze took life and sang.Now I, an under-tenant of the earth, can seeThat the branches of a treeSpread no wider than its roots.And how shall the soul of a manBe larger than the life he has lived?
I who kept the greenhouse,Lover of trees and flowers,Oft in life saw this umbrageous elm,Measuring its generous branches with my eye,And listened to its rejoicing leavesLovingly patting each otherWith sweet aeolian whispers.And well they might:For the roots had grown so wide and deepThat the soil of the hill could not withholdAught of its virtue, enriched by rain,And warmed by the sun;But yielded it all to the thrifty roots,Through which it was drawn and whirled to the trunk,And thence to the branches, and into the leaves,Wherefrom the breeze took life and sang.Now I, an under-tenant of the earth, can seeThat the branches of a treeSpread no wider than its roots.And how shall the soul of a manBe larger than the life he has lived?