The straight young trees too proudly stand
Erect, apart, to take a brother's hand,
But later when grown old and strong and wise,
They see with understanding eyes,
And then across the road they bend to grasp
A brother's hand in friendly leafy clasp;
And as the changing seasons come and go
Thus bravely linked they welcome sun and snow,
And friendly time but makes them stronger, kinder, closer grow.
