I saw in Louisiana a live-oak growing
All alone stood it, and the moss hung down from the
　　　　　branches;
Without any companion it grew there, uttering joyous
　　　　　leaves of dark green,
And its look, rude, unbending, lusty, made me think
　　　　　of myself;
But I wonder'd how it could utter joyous leaves,
　　　　　standing alone there, without its friend, its
　　　　　lover near--for I knew I could not;
And I broke off a twig with a certain number of
　　　　　leaves upon it, and twined around it a little
　　　　　moss,
And brought it away--and I have placed it in sight in
　　　　　my room;
It is not needed to remind me as of my own dear
　　　　　friends,
(For I believe lately I think of little else than of
　　　　　them;)
Yet it remains to me a curious token--it makes me
　　　　　think of manly love;
For all that, and though the live-oak glistens there
　　　　　in Louisiana, solitary, in a wide flat space,
Uttering joyous leaves all its life, without a friend, a
　　　　　lover, near,
I know very well I could not.