WOODMAN SPARE THAT TREE

                                [Poem]
                        WOODMAN,SPARE THAT TREE

Woodman, spare that tree!
Touch not a single bough!
In youth it sheltered me 
And I'll protect it now.

'Twas my forefather's hand
That placed it near his coat;
There, woodman, let it stand,
Thy ax shall harm it not.

That old familiar tree;
Whoose glory and renown 
Are spread o'er land and sea-
And wouldst thou hew it down?

Woodman, forbear thy stroke!
Cut not its earth-bound ties;
Oh, spare that aged oak
Now towering to the skies!

When but an idle boy,
I sought its grateful shade;
In all their gushing joy
Here, too, my sisters played.

My mother kissed me here;
My mother pressed my hand-
Forgive this foolish tear,
But let that old oak stand.
                                       -George Pope Morris