The Oak Under His Years How Does He Bend Poem by Emmanuel George Cefai

The oak under his years how does he bend
And now its foliage thick less, less becomes
With the fast gliding of its further years
Its bark more hollowed here and there becomes
And his branches to earth more incline.

So, father, in your later years like the old oak
You bent under the burden of the former years
Your roots were still into the ground transfixed
Sure great and raw but losing ground.

And now, and now, where the oak stood
There is the soil rich in fertile remains
And in the Night the pale moon smiles
And sheds its rays to play with the soft ground:

Then methinks Father you pace there invisible.