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Within the Quaker City&rsquo;s realm, There stood the famous Treaty Elm. Here, with its sheltering boughs above. Good William Penn, in peace and love The Indians met, and there agreed Upon that treaty which we read Was never broken, though ho oath Was taken&mdash;justice guiding both. A monument now marks the ground Where once this honored tree was found.

Within a city of the dead, Near Bunker Hill, just at the head Of Cotton Mather&rsquo;s grave, there stands A weeping willow which fond hands Brought from Napoleon&rsquo;s grave, they say, In St. Helena, far away.

I&rsquo;ll tell you of a Sycamore, And how two poets&rsquo; names it bore; Upon Ohio&rsquo;s soil it stands, &rsquo;Twas placed there by the childish hands Of sister poets, and is known As Alice and Phoebe Cary&rsquo;s own. One day, when little girls, they found A sapling lying on the ground; They planted it with tenderest care Beside this pleasant highway, where It grew and thrived and came to be To all around, the Cary Tree.

In New York City proudly stand Thirteen monarchs, lofty, grand. Their branches tow&rsquo;ring toward the sun Are monuments of Hamilton, Who planted them in pride that we Had won our cause and liberty&mdash; A tribute, history relates, To the original thirteen states.

We reverence these famous trees. What better monuments than these? How fitting on each Arbor Day That we a grateful tribute pay To poet, statesman, author, friend. To one whose deeds our hearts commend, As lovingly we plant a tree Held sacred to his memory; A fresh memorial, as each year New life and buds and leaves appear,&mdash; A living monumental tree, True type of immortality!