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Out of the wooded land, up from the fungal earth
In vast and spiralled surge came forth the oaken girth:
A twisting column thrust towards the upper climes:
A many-ages growth and lineage of times.
Swathed enclaves high and leafy breeze
Midst folia-clouds of hostelries
Where microbes, birds and emperors hide
And Woodcock in the shades reside.
“Gainsaying harm you thus prevail
The chosen sacred dwelling place;
Paternal figure to the frail, and Everlasting arm of grace!”