| |
| WOODMAN, spare that tree! | |
| Touch not a single bough! | |
| In youth it sheltered me, | |
| And I ’ll protect it now. | |
| ’T was my forefather’s hand | 5 |
| That placed it near his cot; | |
| There, woodman, let it stand, | |
| Thy axe shall harm it not! | |
| |
| That old familiar tree, | |
| Whose glory and renown | 10 |
| Are spread o’er land and sea, | |
| And wouldst thou hew it down? | |
| Woodman, forbear thy stroke! | |
| Cut not its earth-bound ties; | |
| O, spare that aged oak, | 15 |
| 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. | 20 |
| My mother kissed me here; | |
| My father pressed my hand— | |
| Forgive this foolish tear, | |
| But let that old oak stand! | |
| |
| My heart-strings round thee cling, | 25 |
| Close as thy bark, old friend! | |
| Here shall the wild-bird sing, | |
| And still thy branches bend. | |
| Old tree! the storm still brave! | |
| And, woodman, leave the spot; | 30 |
| While I ’ve a hand to save, | |
| Thy axe shall hurt it not. | |
| |
