To a favourite tree

Old favourite tree art thou too fled the scene
Could not the ax thy clining age delay
& let thee stretch thy shadows oer the green
& let thee dye in picturesque decay

What hadst thou done to meet a tyrants frown
Be dragd a captive from thy native wood
What was the cause the raige that hewd thee down
Small value was the ground on which thou stood
So sweet in summer as thy branches spread
In such gay cloathing as thy boughs where drest
Where many a shepherd swain has laid his head
& on thy cooling fragrance sunk to rest
Adieu old friends ye trees & bushes dear
The flower refreshd by Morning dews
Hopeful blooms in asure skies
Anon the Noontide heat ensues
It hoples Withers droops & dies
O Cruel change of Love like mine
To bid me hope one only day
& ere that worst of days declind
To snatch that only hope away

Poems Descriptive of Rural Life and Scenery (1820)

1 comment:

Bridget said...

Perfect photo, cracking open to the heart.