Chant to Honour the Trees

When nights and days are balanced and halved,
The ancient Oaks sprout life anew.
Limbs of buds and leaves reach out
Collecting the breath of the mornings’ dew

Summer will come and the Winter winds,
Turning and turning the leaves on their stems.
Then they must fall, but now in the spring
the twig is bound, and the Bud remains.

Hang the leaf from sturdy limb
Of Oak or Maple, or Ash, or Elm,
Praise the Oak God, the tree is him!
Thus will the trees live long and well.