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James Russell Lowell - On Planting A Tree At Inveraray
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Who does his duty is a question
  Too complex to be solved by me,
But he, I venture the suggestion,
  Does part of his that plants a tree.

For after he is dead and buried,
  And epitaphed, and well forgot,
Nay, even his shade by Charon ferried
  To--let us not inquire to what,

His deed, its author long outliving,
  By Nature`s mother-care increased,
Shall stand, his verdant almoner, giving
  A kindly dole to man and beast.

The wayfarer, at noon reposing,
  Shall bless its shadow on the grass,
Or sheep beneath it huddle, dozing
  Until the thundergust o`erpass.

The owl, belated in his plundering,
  Shall here await the friendly night,
Blinking whene`er he wakes, and wondering
  What fool it was invented light.

Hither the busy birds shall flutter,
  With the light timber for their nests,
And, pausing from their labor, utter
  The morning sunshine in their breasts.

What though his memory shall have vanished,
  Since the good deed he did survives?
It is not wholly to be banished
  Thus to be part of many lives.

Grow, then, my foster-child, and strengthen,
  Bough over bough, a murmurous pile,
And, as your stately stem shall lengthen,
  So may the statelier of Argyll!
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