There’s majesty of scene where grows the oak.
You have more heart than most; my charming knight.
The winds of autumn hasten now to choke
but you resist the forest’s wintry blight.
You’ll not allow cold earth to freeze your heart
nor let the bitter breeze strip all your leaves.
You are that stalwart made of rarer part;
your leaf turns bloody beautiful, I see.
My bravest one, you face the cold ; unbowed
and I will marry you and place a crown
upon your shocked and bleeding, leafy brow.
My arms reach out to grasp and hold you round.
My love for you outlasts this winter song
as I will rest beneath you before long.