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266 ELIZABETH OAKES SMITH. It grew where the rocks were bursting out From the thin and heavy soil — Where the ocean's roar, and the sailor's shout, Were mingled in wild turmoil. Where the far-off sound of the restless deep Came up with a booming swell; And the white foam dash'd to the rocky steep, But it loved the tumult well. Then its huge limbs creak'd in the midnight air, And joined in the rude uproar. The bleaching bones of the sea-birds prey Were heap'd on the rocks below; And the bald-headed eagle, fierce and gray, Look'd off from its topmost bough. Where its shadow lay on the quiet wave The light boat often swung, And the stout ship, saved from the ocean-grace, Her cable round it flung. Change came to the mighty things on earth — Old empires pass'd awat; Of the generations that had birth, O Death! where, where were they? Yet fresh and green the brace oak stood, Nor dreamed it of decay, Though a thousand times in the autumn wook Its leaves on the pale earth lay. A sound comes down in the forest trees, An echoing from the hill; It floats far off on the summer breeze, And the shore resounds it shrill. ELIZABETH OAKES SMITH. 267 Lo! the monarch tree no more shall stand Like a watch-tower if the main — The strokes fall thick from the woodman's hand, And its falling shakes the plain. The stour old oak!—'Twas a worthy tree, And the builder marked it out; And he smiled its angled limbs to see, As he measured the trunk about. Already to him was a gallant bark Careering the rolling deep, And in sinshine, calm, or tempest dark, Her way she will proudly keep. The chiseld clinks, and the hammer rings, And the merry jest goes round; While he who longest and loudest sings Is the stoutest workman found. With a jointed rib, and trunnel'd plank The work goes gaily on, And light-spoke oaths, when the glass they drank, Are heard till the task is done. She sits on the stocks, the skeleton ship, With her oaken ribs all bare, And the child looks up with parted lip, As it gathers fuel there— With brimless hat, the bare-foot boy Looks round with strange amaze, And dreams of a sailor's life of joy Are mingled in that gaze. With a graceful waist and carvings brace The trim hull waits the sea— And she proudly stoops to the crested wave, While round go the cheering three.