The Hervey Allen Oak

I am the oldest and noblest thing at Porter.
I have no vices nor any small virtues.
I neither teach nor preach.
I am perfect in beauty.
God made me.

Before the school I was.
A century ago
I saw them bury men in the cemetery
When the yellow fever flitted through the land.
I saw the Arsenal grow up about me.
I heard the gun fired at Sumpter
That killed a million men.
I saw the men in the blue go—
They went in the night, and hurriedly,
Burying their great cannon.
Then came the men in gray.

Then a furnace light beat upon the walls
And men toiled day and night casting huge cannon,
For it was the war, the drums beat in the streets.
Then the grass grew there
And my leaves shivered to the federal cannon
That drew nearer and nearer.
One day the men in gray went
And the blue-coats came again.

Then a silence fell upon the land,
The cannon gaped and rusted;
Birds build in their mouths;

Sorrow and desolation filled the land.
While men hated each other and cursed
I grew more beautiful day by day.

At last a man came with the love of Christ in this heart,
Full of sorrow and faith and great pity.
He brought the boys on muleback;
He brought the boys by wagon;
He brought the boys by boat;
He brought the boys—
The old arsenal became a school.

Under my branches now sounds the murmur of young voices
From the school rooms where faithful men toiled.
Day after day, year after year,
The seed, which a good man planted,
Like the acorn from which I sprang,
Has grown great. I watch and wait.
The school grows. Boys come and go,
But I remain.

Before you go, look at me!
I am the oldest and noblest thing at Porter.
I saw to you:
Grow up strong and beautiful;
Strike your roots deep;
Stand up firmly against the storm;
Throw out sheltering arms to others;
Live to a gracious and noble old age.

Hervey Allen