The complete poetical works of Thomas Campbell Oxford edition: Edited, with notes by J. Logie Robertson |
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THE BEECH-TREE'S PETITION |
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 | The complete poetical works of Thomas Campbell |  |
THE BEECH-TREE'S PETITION
O leave this barren spot to me!
Spare, woodman, spare the beechen tree.
Though bush or floweret never grow
My dark unwarming shade below;
Nor summer bud perfume the dew,
Of rosy blush or yellow hue;
Nor fruits of autumn, blossom-born,
My green and glossy leaves adorn;
Nor murmuring tribes from me derive
The ambrosial amber of the hive—
Yet leave this barren spot to me:
Spare, woodman, spare the beechen tree!
Spare, woodman, spare the beechen tree.
Though bush or floweret never grow
My dark unwarming shade below;
Nor summer bud perfume the dew,
Of rosy blush or yellow hue;
Nor fruits of autumn, blossom-born,
My green and glossy leaves adorn;
Nor murmuring tribes from me derive
The ambrosial amber of the hive—
Yet leave this barren spot to me:
Spare, woodman, spare the beechen tree!
246
Thrice twenty summers I have seen
The sky grow bright, the forest green:
And many a wintry wind have stood
In bloomless, fruitless solitude,
Since childhood in my pleasant bower
First spent its sweet and sportive hour,
Since youthful lovers in my shade
Their vows of truth and rapture made
And on my trunk's surviving frame
Carved many a long-forgotten name.
Oh! by the sighs of gentle sound
First breathed upon this sacred ground,
By all that Love has whispered here,
Or Beauty heard with ravished ear—
As Love's own altar honour me:
Spare, woodman, spare the beechen tree!
The sky grow bright, the forest green:
And many a wintry wind have stood
In bloomless, fruitless solitude,
Since childhood in my pleasant bower
First spent its sweet and sportive hour,
Since youthful lovers in my shade
Their vows of truth and rapture made
And on my trunk's surviving frame
Carved many a long-forgotten name.
Oh! by the sighs of gentle sound
First breathed upon this sacred ground,
By all that Love has whispered here,
Or Beauty heard with ravished ear—
As Love's own altar honour me:
Spare, woodman, spare the beechen tree!
| The complete poetical works of Thomas Campbell | |