WHO does his duty is a question Too complex to be solved by me, But he, I venture the suggestion, Does part of his that plants a tree. For after he is dead and buried, And epitaphed, and well forgot, Nay, even his shade by Charon ferried To — let us not inquire to what, His deed, its author long outliving, By Nature's mother-care increased, Shall stand, his verdant almoner, giving A kindly dole to man and beast. The wayfarer, at noon reposing, Shall bless its shadow on the grass, Or sheep beneath it huddle, dozing Until the thundergust o'erpass. The owl, belated in his plundering, Shall here await the friendly night, Blinking whene'er he wakes, and wondering What fool it was invented light. Hither the busy birds shall flutter, With the light timber for their nests, And, pausing from their labor, utter The morning sunshine in their breasts. What though his memory shall have vanished, Since the good deed he did survives? It is not wholly to be banished Thus to be part of many lives. Grow, then, my foster-child, and strengthen, Bough over bough, a murmurous pile, And, as your stately stem shall lengthen, So may the statelier of Argyll! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A BALLADE OF SUICIDE by GILBERT KEITH CHESTERTON MY LADY'S PLEASURE by ROBERT GRAHAM THE PRAIRIE-GRASS DIVIDING by WALT WHITMAN DRINKING; PARAPHRASED by ANACREON ON A TOBACCO JAR by BERNARD BARKER MORNING STAR by IDA MAY BORNCAMP |