The Maple Tree

Oh, the Maple tree, so proud and tall,

With branches spreading wide,

It stands there in the autumn sun,

Its beauty cannot hide.

Its leaves are tinged with fiery hues,

Of red, and gold, and brown,

And as they flutter to the ground,

They make a rustling sound.

The trunk is rough and knotty too,

But still so strong and true,

It's seen the passing of the years,

And weathered winds that blew.

Its sap is sweet, and in the spring,

The tree awakes anew,

As buds emerge and leaves unfold,

To catch the morning dew.

The Maple tree, a symbol of,

Our land so fair and free,

A testament to nature's might,

For all the world to see.