There grewe an aged tree on the greene,
A goodly Oake sometime had it bene,
With armes full strong and largely displayd,
But
of their leaues they were disarayde:
The bodie bigge, and mightely pight,
Throughly
rooted, and of wonderous hight:
And
mochell mast to the husband did yielde,
And with his nuts larded many swine.
But
now the gray mosse marred his rine,
His
toppe was bald, and wasted with wormes,
His honor decayed, his braunches sere.
Edmund Spenser, 1597: The Shepheardes Calendar - Februarie.
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