A man observed a large oak tree
Majestic, strong, and tall.
So old was the forest giant
He rose above them all.
This man observed a storm roll in
And toss the tree about.
The wind whipped branches to and fro,
The rain near drowned it out.
Upon the breaking of the storm
He glanced up at the tree,
And saw that it was smiling
And thought “How can this be?”
“Oh, tree,” he asked “Why aren’t you mad
At this indignant storm?
See how it accosted you,
It nearly blew you o’er!”
“Why should I be mad?” it asked
“Should I then hate the rain,
Which cleanses me and gives me drink
So I can rise again?
“Or should I loathe the wind you say
Has threatened me with harm?
Should I raise my branches to its face,
Or shout with great alarm?”
“It seems you should do something, tree,”
The man replied with spite,
“To teach it of the mighty oak
It this day dared to fight!”
“Fight?” the tree inquired
As it laughed, and then went on,
“Why the storm was just reminding me
Of how I love the sun.
“So now that it has shone again,
I truly love its light.
For it I hold deep gratitude,
Thanks to the stormy night.
“And I, a solitary thing
Have only love to show
For the wind you judged as violent
As it moved my body so.
“For as I stand immobile
Should I walk? Nay, not a chance!
But this storm of violent honesty,
It taught me how to dance.”