There is a green space close at hand,
behind yon old brick wall,
and there the Arboretum sits,
to benefit us all.
I do not know, I cannot say,
the name of every tree,
but in the summer sun I sat
and they lent shade to me.
When Autumn came and leaves fell thick,
and Winter chills blew cold,
the lakes lay still, the days grew short,
and we were growing old.
But oh, the days have hastened now,
the ones gone past were best,
but still I sit and watch the trees,
with all the Sons of Rest.
Written by
Andrew Clayton
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