Sapless

[…] Thou For whose path the Atlantic’s level powers Cleave themselves into chasms, while far below The sea-blooms and the oozy woods which wear The sapless foliage of the ocean, know Thy voice, and suddenly grow grey with fear, And tremble to despoil themselves: O, hear!

Below, all their earthward-looking branches are sapless and shattered, splintered by the weight of many winters’ snows; above, they are still green and full of life, but their summits overtop all the deciduous trees around them, and in their companionship with heaven they are alone.

O young John Talbot! I did send for thee To tutor thee in stratagems of war, That Talbot’s name might be in thee revived When sapless age and weak unable limbs Should bring thy father to his drooping chair.

O smooth my rugged heart, and there Engrave thy rev’rend Law and fear: Or make a new one, since the old Is saplesse grown, And a much fitter stone To hide my dust, then thee to hold.