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• WHERE is thy home ?' I asked a child,
Who, in the morning air,
In garlands for her hair.
And smiled in childish glee,
Where soft winds wander free.'
And all its rosy hours,
And treasures live in flowers.
• Where is thy home?' I asked of one
Who bent with flushing face, To hear a warrior's tender lore
In the wild woods' secret place.
The tale might well impart,
Was in a kindred heart.
To earth will fondly cling,
That light and fragile thing.
• Where is thy home, thou lonely man?'
I asked a pilgrim grey,
Slow, musing on his way ;
Upturned his holy eyes,
My home is in the skies.'
To whom such thoughts are given, That walks from worldly fetters free,
Its only home in Heaven.
Suon. Than a tree, a grander child earth bears not! What are the boasted palaces of man, Imperial city, or triumphal arch, To forests of immeasurable extent, Which time confirms, which centuries waste
not? Oaks gather strength for ages, and when at
SONG OF THE WINTER TREE.
Elija Cook. What a happy life was mine, when the sun
beams used to shine, Like golden threads about my summer suit! When my warp and woof of green let enough
of light between, Just to dry the dew that lingered at my
root. What troops of friends I had, when my form
was richly clad, When I was fair ’mid fairest things of earth; Good company came round, and I heard no
rougher sound Than childhood's laugh in bold and leaping
The old man sat him down to note my emerald
crown, And rest beneath my branches thick and
bright; The squirrel on the spray kept swinging all the
day, And the song birds chattered to me through
the night. The dreaming poet laid his soft harp in my
shade And sung my beauty, chorused by the bee :
The village maiden came, to read her own dear
Carved on my bark, and bless the broad green
tree. The merry music breathed while the bounding
dancers wreathed In mazy windings round my giant stem; And the joyous words they poured, as they trod
the chequered sward, Told the green tree was a worshipped thing by
Oh, what troops of friends I had, to make my
strong heart glad ; What kind ones answered to my rustling
call! I was hailed with smiling praise in the glow
ing summer days, And the beautiful green tree was loved by
all. But the bleak wind has swept by, and the grey
cloud dimmed the sky, My latest leaf has left my inmost bough; I creak in grating tones, like the skeleton's
bleached bones, And not a footstep seeks the old tree now.
I stand at morning's dawn, the cheerless and
forlorn; The sunset comes and finds me still alone ;
The mates who shared my bloom have left me
me in my gloom, Birds, poet, dancers, children - all, are gone.
The hearts that turned this way when I stood
in fine array,
Forsake me now as though I ceased to be :
But the kind and merry train will be sure to
come again, With love and smiles as ready as of yore ; I must only wait to wear my robe so rich and
fair, And they will throng as they have thronged
Oh! ye who dwell in pride, with parasites
beside, Only lose your summer green leaves, and ye'll
That the courtly friends will change into
things all cold and strange And forget ye as they do the winter tree.