At my childhood church, an oak tree stands, With branches extended toward heaven. At a hundred years old at least I’d guess, What secrets it must hold in its resin.
The Oak Tree
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A Solitary Soul
295
I’m a solitary soul, without love at my side, A life alone, with just myself to keep. I’ve no hand to hold, no man in whom to confide, No comfort in the night, no kiss upon my cheek.