There must be honour in being a tree.
Standing there, sure and steadfast
Never to move, never to flee
Enduring rain and shine until the last.
Nobly does it lend its branches
To flckle birds and maybe a nest,
And its wide shade to weary travellers;
Indeed, this it does best.
Yet birds are capricious,
And nests are outgrown.
Travellers will travel,
And the sun will set.
But you will remain, oh noble tree
Forsaken and forlorn,
Enjoying only fleeting patronage
And eternal scorn.