I Saw In Louisiana A Live-Oak Growing, All Alone Stood It, And The Moss Hung Down From The Branches; Without Any Companion It Grew There, Uttering Joyous Leaves Of Dark Green, And Its Look, Rude, Unbending, Lusty, Made Me Think Of Myself; But I Wonder'D How It Could Utter Joyous Leaves, Standing Alone There, Without Its Friend, Its Lover Near - For I Knew I Could Not; And I Broke Off A Twig With A Certain Number Of Leaves Upon It, And Twined Around It A Little Moss, And Brought It Away - And I Have Placed It In Sight In My Room; It Is Not Needed To Remind Me As Of My Own Dear Friends, (For I Believe Lately I Think Of Little Else Than Of Them;) Yet It Remains To Me A Curious Token - It Makes Me Think Of Manly Love; For All That, And Though The Live-Oak Glistens There In Louisiana, Solitary, In A Wide Flat Space, Uttering Joyous Leaves All Its Life, Without A Friend, A Lover, Near, I Know Very Well I Could Not.