He is full of strength before the sun, and his branches go out over his garden.

For there is hope of a tree; if it is cut down, it will come to life again, and its branches will not come to an end.

Still, at the smell of water, it will make buds, and put out branches like a young plant.

He does not come out of the dark; his branches are burned by the flame, and the wind takes away his bud.

My root will be open to the waters, and the night mist will be on my branches,

He is covered by the branches of the trees; the grasses of the stream are round him.