Saga of the oak, and other poems
Saga of the oak, and other poems
By William Henry Venable
30 Mar, 2021
HOARSELY to the midnight moon Voiced the oak his rugged rune: “Harken, sibyl Moon, to me; Hear the saga of the Tree. “Thou, O queen of splendor, must Pale and crumble back to dust; Through slow eons diest thou,— Doomsday craves my vitals now. â
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HOARSELY to the midnight moon Voiced the oak his rugged rune: “Harken, sibyl Moon, to me; Hear the saga of the Tree. “Thou, O queen of splendor, must Pale and crumble back to dust; Through slow eons diest thou,— Doomsday craves my vitals now. “I am scion of a line Old, imperial, divine; Earth produced my ancestor Ere great Odin was, or Thor. “From the hursts of holy oak Fateful gods of Asgard spoke; In the consecrated shade Bard and Druid sang and prayed. Less