"LIFE!" said the Oak-beam in the good ship. "I know it by its loss.
Once I quivered in the forest at the touch of every breeze. Every
living leaf of mine had melody, and all together made a stream of
many-voiced music; whilst around me were countless living trees like
myself, who woke at every dawn to a chorus in the morning breeze. But
since the axe was laid at our roots, all the music has gone from our
branches. We are useful still, they say, in the gallant ship, and our
country mentions us with honour even in death; but the music has gone
from us with life for ever, and we can only groan and creak in the
storms. LIFE made us musical," said the Oak-beam.