Woodman, Spare That Tree by George P. Morris

Woodman, Spare That Tree

by George P. Morris

Woodman, spare that tree!
Touch not a single bough;
In youth it sheltered me,
And I'll protect it now.
'Twas my forefather's hand
That placed it near his cot;
There, woodman, let it stand;
Thy ax shall harm it not;

That old familiar tree,
Whose glory and renown
Are spread o'er land and sea--
And wouldst thou hack it down?
Woodman, forbear thy stroke!
Cut not its earth-bound ties;
Oh, spare that aged oak
Now towering to the skies.

When but an idle boy,
I sought its grateful shade;
In all their gushing joy,
Here, too, my sisters played.
My mother kissed me here;
My father pressed my hand--
Forgive this foolish tear,
But let that old oak stand!

My heart-strings round thee cling,
Close as thy bark, old friend!
Here shall the wild-bird sing,
And still thy branches bend.
Old tree! the storm still brave!
And, woodman, leave the spot;
While I've a hand to save,
Thy ax shall harm it not.

For resources, lessons, crafts, activities, and more, go to: 

 

http://www.mrscjacksonsclass.com/earthday.htm

http://www.mrscjacksonsclass.com/biomeshabitats.htm

http://www.mrscjacksonsclass.com/endangeredspecies.htm

http://mrscjacksonsclass.com/