Old favourite tree thoust seen times changes lower But change till now did never come to thee For time beheld thee as his sacred dower And nature claimed thee her domestic tree Storms came and shook thee with aliving power Yet steadfast to thy home thy roots hath been Summers of thirst parched round thy homely bower Till earth grew iron - still thy leaves was green The children sought thee in thy summer shade And made their play house rings of sticks and stone The mavis sang and felt himself alone While in they leaves his early nest was made And I did feel his happiness mine own Nought heeding that our friendship was betrayed Excerpt from To a Fallen Elm by John Clare