I saw in Louisiana a live-oak growing,
 All alone stood it and the moss hung down 
   from the branches,
 Without any companion it grew there 
   uttering joyous leaves of dark green,
 And its look, rude, unbending, lusty, made
   me think of myself,
 But I wonder'd how it could utter joyous
   leaves standing alone there without its
   friend near, for I knew I could not,
 And I broke off a twig with a certain
   number of leaves upon it, and twined
   around it a little moss,
 And brought it away, and I have placed it in 
   sight in my room,
 It is not needed to remind me as of my own 
   dear friends,
 (For I believe lately I think of little else than
   of them,)
 Yet it remains to me a curious token, it
   makes me think of manly love;
 For all that, and though the live-oak glistens
   there in Louisiana solitary in a wide flat 
   space, 
 Uttering joyous leaves all its life without a 
   friend a lover near,
 I know very well I could not.