Mary Barber - The Oak and Its Branches - Ghizela Rowe

The oak and it's branches by Mary Barber

An oak with spreading branches crown'd

Beheld an ivy on the ground

Expos'd to ev'ry trampling beast

That roam'd around the dreary waste

The tree of jove in all his state

With pity view'd the ivy's fate

And kindly told her she should find

Security around his rind

Nor was that only his intent

But to bestow some nourishment

The branches saw and griev'd to see

Some juices taken from the tree

Parent say they in angry tone

Your sap should nourish us alone

Why should you nurse this stranger plant

With what your sons in time may want

May want to raise us high in air

And make us more distinguish'd there

'Tis well the parent tree reply'd

Must I to gratify your pride

Act only with a narrow view

Of doing good to none but you

Know sons tho' jove hath made me great

I am not safe from storms of fate

Is it not prudent then I pray

To guard against another day

Whilst I'm alive you crown my head

This graces me alive and dead