The Willow Tree stands by the water, not the tallest, never
stronger -
Than mighty pines and oaks that grow taller and live longer
Yet flexible her branches, her swaying limbs as the wind
blows
-That stormy destroying wind which picks up larger trees and
downward throws-
Is cut into a thousand pieces by the whipping branches and
reduced to a whispered hiss
By the little leaves resistless motion. The storm is stilled
by this.
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