Beside a murmuring river
  There stands an old oak-tree;
It looks as green as ever,
  Still towering on the lea;
It looks as fresh as ever
  On a cheerful summer's day:
Old tree, in thee no change I see
  In the years that have roll'd away.

There's a change in all things else,
  Nought looks the same save thee;
How alter'd sounds the river's voice
  As it rushes to the sea!
And the birds that sang upon thy boughs
  So sweetly in the May,
All changed but thee, thou ancient tree,
  In the years that have roll'd away.

Green are thy leaves, as when in Spring
  I lay and dream'd by thee;
And the sight calls back my youth once more,
  Thou sturdy old oak-tree!
But the friends of my youth, come not again,
  Oh where ! oh where are they?
All gone but thee, thou ancient tree,
  In the years that have roll'd away.

Light was the heart in those happy days,
  From cares and troubles free,
When the birds sang blithe on thy pleasant boughs,
  Thou sturdy old oak-tree.
But the birds are gone, and the friends are gone,
  That met in the merry May,
All changed but thee, thou ancient tree,
  In the years that have roll'd away.