We say of the oak, How grand of girth! Of the willow we say, How slender! And yet to the soft grass clothing the earth How slight is the praise we render.

We say of the oak, How grand of girth! Of the willow we say, How slender! And yet to the soft grass clothing the earth How slight is the praise we render.

At some glad moment was it nature's choice to dower a scrap of sunset with a voice?