 | Three hours ; or, the vigil of love : and other poems |  |
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THE DEAD OAK.
Why should the forest monarch die?
In seeming strong and sound:—
Was there a blighting from the sky?
A worm beneath the ground?
In seeming strong and sound:—
Was there a blighting from the sky?
A worm beneath the ground?
The buds, those breathings of the Spring,
Like bubbles pass away;
And flowers, that Summer's smile can bring,
Must with her smile decay.
Like bubbles pass away;
And flowers, that Summer's smile can bring,
Must with her smile decay.
These yield their pleasures bright thought brief,
And bud and flower may fall,
Yet fragment cup and tinted leaf
Their memory will recall.
And bud and flower may fall,
Yet fragment cup and tinted leaf
Their memory will recall.
The healing herb, the verdant grass,
Like household joys they come,
And leave a blessing, as they pass,
To cheer our winter home.
Like household joys they come,
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To cheer our winter home.
Not transient thus the Oak's proud form,
It rears its head on high,
And battles with the raging storm,
And braves the blazing sky!
It rears its head on high,
And battles with the raging storm,
And braves the blazing sky!
A thousand years may o'er it roll—
States rise and cease to be;
Yet there 's no record on Man's soul
To mark its history.
States rise and cease to be;
Yet there 's no record on Man's soul
To mark its history.
It stands alone, like despot's power,
And when its doom is wrought,
It leaves no bond, like bud or flower,
To link with tender thought.
And when its doom is wrought,
It leaves no bond, like bud or flower,
To link with tender thought.
And therefore does it mouldering lie,
Nor hope nor joy recall;
Bearing this lesson—pride must die,
And none will mourn its fall.
Nor hope nor joy recall;
Bearing this lesson—pride must die,
And none will mourn its fall.
| Three hours ; or, the vigil of love : and other poems | |