The Oak and the Vine

Once there grew a little tendril
From the heart of Mother Earth,

And she strove with all her power
To break ftom her prison berth.

So she lifted head and shoulder,
Thrust them free into the world,

And she caught the smiling sunbeam
As her tender leaves uncurled.

And the soft rain fell upon her,
Waahed her ftesh and eager face,

And the breeze's sweet caressing
Filled her with a nameless grace.

So she strove through all the springtime,
Happy in her youthful strength.

And her leaves grew thick and darker,
And her roots grew firm at length.

So she leaned far in sunlight
From an oak tree standing near.

And she heeded not his warning
When he whispered, ' ' Grow thou here.

''Where my arms can spread above thee,
Shield thee from the sun's hot glow,

Save thee from the storm and torrent
That will lay thy beauty low. ' '

''No," she laughed, "thou knotted oak
tree.
Far too rough and coarse art thou

For my frail and tender beauty

To entwine thy gnarled bough.

"Thou art old and hard and wrinkled.
And thy sides are worn and gray.

Why shouldst thou dare to address me?
I alone must live my day."

So the Oak Tree turned in silence,
Drew away his rugged hand,

But he knew her fragile beauty
Was not made alone to stand.

He, the King of all that forest.
Knew each vine must have an oak,

And a deep and mighty pity
In his heart for her awoke.

Then he pined too for the clinging
Of her soft arms young and fair.

And her tender, close caressing
On his trunk all gray and bare.

But the vine was proud and wilful^
And she laughed and turned away,

Flirted with the bees and blossoms,
Played with them through all the day.

And she sang with birds and breezes
As they kissed her spring-wide eye,

With the butterflies coquetted
As the spring days frolicked by.

Then one day the early summer
Burst upon the waiting earth,

And the tripping, lisping springtide
Suddenly had lost its mirth.

And that early child of summer

Orew apace with rapid stride,
Down she came from southern hillside

With her sunflag floating wide.

And her heat beat on the flowers

Till they f eU low with a sigh,
And the birds sat in the quiet

Of the Oak Tree standing by.

And the bees' persistent buzzing

Dully fell upon her ear,
And the breezes too were absent.

Butterflies came not to cheer.

And the high noon in the heavens
Beat its gold upon her head

Till the Vine in blasted beauty
Drooped npon the ground nigh dead.

Then she gazed upon the Oak Tree,
Standing there so strong and tall,

And she longed with bitter longing
At his sturdy feet to fall.

Just to feel his shadow o'er her,
Just to hear his rustling voice,

Just to grasp his rugged branches.
In his mighty strength rejoice.

Then, lo ! the breezes lifted,
Gathered strength as on they fled,

Till the winds of all the heavens
Shrieked about her quivering head.

AU the forest bent and staggered
'Neath the fury of that gale.

And the thunder crashed and bellowed.
Lightning flashed o'er hill and dale.

And a cold blast from the hillside
Struck the vitals of the Vine,

And she cried, ''0, Oak Tree, help me.
Death doth chill this heart of mine^"

Then, see, the little tendril

Suddenly is borne on high
By her ftiend the sturdy Oak Tree

Who had heard her plaintive cry.

He had braved the storm to reach her,

In her attitude forlorn,
Though his roots had cracked in bending.

He now soothed her body worn.

Oh, she clung with loving fervor
To his rugged, battered arms.

And her heart was full to breaking
As he stilled her vain alarms.

So upon the hillside yonder
Grows the Oak Tree strong and fine,

And about his rugged grayness
Twines the beauty of the Vine.

And the wild things of the forest
Find within their shade a home,

And the Vine warns every tendril
Who would leave her oak to roam.

'Tor," she says, ''in all the forest
Every Vine an Oak must twine.

And the Oak Tree strong and sturdy
Needs the twining of the Vine."