The tree that never had to fight
For the sun and sky and air and light, that stood out in the open plain, And always got its share of rain, Never became a forest king. The man who never had to toil, Who never had to win his share, Of sun and sky and light and air, Never became a manly man, But lived and died as he began. Good timber does not grow in ease; The stronger the wind, the tougher trees; The more the storm, the more the strength; By sun and cold, by rain and snow, In tree or man, good timber grows. Where thickest stands the forest growth, We find the patriarchs of both, And they hold converse with the stars, Whose broken branches show the scars Of many winds and much strife, This is the common law of life.