Oh, those high waters are rising;
   They've spilled their banks in flood,
 Slouching toward the Tree of Life:
   Its roots immersed in mud. 

That tree is just so stout & straight --
   Unambitious of height --
 Not man nor beast could knock it down,
    Regardless of their might.

But just a long soak of its roots --
   A gift of too much good --
 And then a well-timed gust of wind
   Will turn that tree to wood.