ROOTED in soil dull as a dead man's eye, Dank with decay, yon ghastly oak aspires, As if in mockery, to the alien sky, Frowning afar through clouded sunset fires. No garb of summer greenery girds it now: Stripped as some naked soul at Judgment-morn, It rears its blasted arms, its sullen brow, Defiant still, though wasted, scarred, forlorn! Not all its ruin came through storm or time; Ages ago, 'mid winter's dreariest blight, It saw and strove to shroud an awful crime, But slowly withered from that fateful night! An evil charm its many-centuried rings Robbed of their pith; no more with healthful start Its lusty life-sap, nursed by countless springs, Coursed through great veins, and warmed its giant heart. Now all men shun the gaunt accursed thing -- Only the raven with monotonous croak, Tortures the silence, staining with black wing The leprous whiteness of the rotting oak! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FRAGMENTS INTENDED FOR DEATH'S JEST-BOOK: A SUBTERRANEAN CITY by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES ELEGY: 18. LOVES PROGRESS by JOHN DONNE THE SOWER AND HIS SEED by WILLIAM EDWARD HARTPOLE LECKY |