I am the Roof-tree and the Keel;
I bridge the seas for woe and weal.
High o'er the lordly oak I stand,
And drive him on from land to land.
I heft my brother's iron bane;
I shaft the spear, and build the wain.
Dark down the windy dale I grow,
The father of the fateful Bow.
The war-shaft and the milking-bowl
I make, and keep the hay-wain whole.
The King I bless; the lamps I trim;
In my warm wave do fishes swim.
I bowed my head to Adam's will;
The cups of toiling men I fill.
I draw the blood from out the earth;
I store the sun for winter mirth.
Amidst the greenness of my night,
My odorous lamps hang round and bright.
I who am little among trees
In honey-making mate the bees.
Love's lack hath dyed my berries red:
For Love's attire my leaves are shed.
High o'er the mead-flowers' hidden feet
I bear aloft my burden sweet.
Look on my leafy boughs, the Crown
Of living song and dead renown!
This Project Gutenberg etext [number 3468] was produced by David Price, email firstname.lastname@example.org, from the 1896 Longmans, Green and Co. edition. GPL converted it to HTML for the Victorian Web in August 2004 and to CSS in December 2006.
Last modified 27 August 2004