I who kept the greenhouse, br Lover of trees and flowers, br Oft in life saw this umbrageous elm, br Measuring its generous branches with my eye, br And listened to its rejoicing leaves br Lovingly patting each other br With sweet aeolian whispers. br And well they might: br For the roots had grown so wide and deep br That the soil of the hill could not withhold br Aught of its virtue, enriched by rain, br And warmed by the sun; br But yielded it all to the thrifty roots, br Through which it was drawn and whirled to the trunk, br And thence to the branches, and into the leaves, br Wherefrom the breeze took life and sang. br Now I, an under-tenant of the earth, can see br That the branches of a tree br Spread no wider than its roots.